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CONDUCT  OF  LIFE 

BEING  VOLUME  VI. 

OF 

EMERSON’S  COMPLETE  WORKS 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2016 


https://archive.org/details/emersonscomplete06emer_0 


THE 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE 


BY 

RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON 


Lkto  an5  Eebtseii  ©Uttian 


BOSTON 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 
New  York:  11  East  Seventeenth  Street 

(STfre  dtoerm&e  Press,  Camfcribfle 
1885 


Copyright,  1860, 

By  RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON, 

Copyright,  1883, 

By  EDWARD  W.  EMERSON. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Pressi  Cambridge  : 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  0.  Houghton  & Co. 


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CONTENTS. 

# — 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

• I.  Fate  . . ' 7 

* II.  Power 53 

* III.  Wealth 83 

IV.  Culture 125 

* V.  Behavior 161 

* YI.  Worship  ........  191 

VII.  Considerations  by  the  Way  ....  231 

• VIII.  Beauty 265 

* IX.  Illusions 291 


I. 


FATE. 

• 

Delicate  omens  traced  in  air 
To  the  lone  bard  true  witness  bare 
Birds  with  auguries  on  their  wings 
Chanted  undeceiving  things 
Him  to  beckon,  him  to  warn ; 

Well  might  then  the  poet  scorn 
To  learn  of  scribe  or  courier 
Hints  writ  in  vaster  character ; 
And  on  his  mind,  at  dawn  of  day, 
Soft  shadows  of  the  evening  lay. 
For  the  prevision  is  allied 
Unto  the  thing  so  signified ; 

Or  say,  the  foresight  that  awaits 
Is  the  same  Genius  that  creates. 


FATE. 


It  chanced  during  one  winter  a few  years  ago, 
that  our  cities  were  bent  on  discussing  the  theory 
of  the  Age.  By  an  odd  coincidence,  four  or  five 
noted  men  were  each  reading  a discourse  to  the 
citizens  of  Boston  or  New  York,  on  the  Spirit  of 
the  Times.  It  so  happened  that  the  subject  had 
the  same  prominence  in  some  remarkable  pam- 
phlets and  journals  issued  in  London  in  the  same 
season.  To  me  however  the  question  of  the  times 
resolved  itself  into  a practical  question  of  the  con- 
duct of  life.  How  shall  I live?  We  are  incom- 
petent to  solve  the  times.  Our  geometry  cannot 
span  the  huge  orbits  of  the  prevailing  ideas,  be- 
hold their  return  and  reconcile  their  opposition. 
We  can  only  obey  our  own  polarity.  ’T  is  fine  for 
us  to  speculate  and  elect  our  course,  if  we  must 
accept  an  irresistible  dictation. 

In  our  first  steps  to  gain  our  wishes  we  come 
upon  immovable  limitations.  We  are  fired  with 
the  hope  to  reform  men.  After  many  experiments 
we  find  that  we  must  begin  earlier,  — at  school. 
But  the  boys  and  girls  are  not  docile  ; we  can  make 
nothing  of  them.  We  decide  that  they  are  not  of 


10 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


good  stock.  We  must  begin  our  reform  earlier  still, 
— at  generation:  that  is  to  say  there  is  Fate,  or 
laws  of  the  world. 

But  if  there  be  irresistible  dictation,  this  dicta- 
tion understands  itself.  If  we  must  accept  Fate, 
we  are  not  less  compelled  to  affirm  liberty,  the  sig- 
nificance of  the  individual,  the  grandeur  of  duty, 
the  power  of  character.  This  is  true,  and  that 
other  is  true.  But  our  geometry  cannot  span  these 
extreme  points  and  reconcile  them.  What  to  do? 
By  obeying  each  thought  frankly,  by  harping,  or,  if 
you  will,  pounding  on  each  string,  we  learn  at  last 
its  power.  By  the  same  obedience  to  other  thoughts 
we  learn  theirs,  and  then  comes  some  reasonable 
hope  of  harmonizing  them.  We  are  sure  that, 
though  we  know  not  how,  necessity  does  comport 
with  liberty,  the  individual  with  the  world,  my 'po- 
larity with  the  spirit  of  the  times.  The  riddle  of 
the  age  has  for  each  a private  solution.  If  one 
would  study  his  own  time,  it  must  be  by  this 
method  of  taking  up  in  turn  each  of  the  leading 
topics  which  belong  to  our  scheme  of  human  life, 
and  by  firmly  stating  all  that  is  agreeable  to  expe- 
rience on  one,  and  doing  the  same  justice  to  the  op- 
posing facts  in  the  others,  the  true  limitations  will 
appear.  Any  excess  of  emphasis  on  one  part  would 
be  corrected,  and  a just  balance  would  be  made. 

But  let  us  honestly  state  the  facts.  Our  Amer- 


FATE. 


11 


ica  lias  a bad  name  for  superficialness.  Great  men, 
great  nations,  have  not  been  boasters  and  buffoons, 
but  perceivers  of  the  terror  of  life,  and  have 
manned  themselves  to  face  it.  The  Spartan,  em- 
bodying his  religion  in  his  country,  dies  before  its 
majesty  without  a question.  The  Turk,  who  be- 
lieves his  doom  is  written  on  the  iron  leaf  in  the 
moment  when  he  entered  the  world,  rushes  on  the 
enemy’s  sabre  with  undivided  will.  The  Turk,  the 
Arab,  the  Persian,  accepts  the  foreordained  fate : 

“ On  two  clays,  it  steads  not  to  run  from  thy  grave, 

The  appointed,  and  the  unappointed  day  ; 

On  the  first,  neither  halm  nor  physician  can  save, 

Nor  thee,  on  the  second,  the  Universe  slay.” 

The  Hindoo  under  the  wheel,  is  as  firm.  Our  Cal- 
vinists in  the  last  generation  had  something  of  the 
same  dignity.  They  felt  that  the  weight  of  the 
Universe  held  them  down  to  their  place.  What 
could  they  do  ? Wise  men  feel  that  there  is  some- 
thing which  cannot  be  talked  or  voted  away,  — a 
strap  or  belt  which  girds  the  world  : — 

“ The  Destiny,  minister  general, 

That  executeth  in  the  world  o’er  all, 

The  purveyance  which  God  hath  seen  beforne, 

So  strong  it  is,  that  though  the  world  had  sworn 
The  contrary  of  a thing  by  yea  or  nay, 

Yet  sometime  it  shall  fallen  on  a day 
That  falleth  not  oft  in  a thousand  year  ; 

For,  certainly,  our  appetites  here, 


12 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


Be  it  of  war,  or  peace,  or  hate,  or  love, 

All  this  is  ruled  by  the  sight  above.” 

Chaucer  : The  Knighte's  Tale. 

The  Greek  Tragedy  expressed  the  same  sense. 
“ Whatever  is  fated,  that  will  take  place.  The 
great  immense  mind  of  Jove  is  not  to  be  trans- 
gressed.” 

Savages  cling  to  a local  god  of  one  tribe  or  town. 
The  broad  ethics  of  Jesus  were  quickly  narrowed 
to  village  theologies,  which  preach  an  election  or 
favoritism.  And  now  and  then  an  amiable  parson, 
like  Jung  Stilling  or  Robert  Huntington,  believes 
in  a pistareen  - Providence,  which,  whenever  the 
good  man  wants  a dinner,  makes  that  somebody 
shall  knock  at  his  door  and  leave  a half-dollar. 
But  Nature  isjio  sentimentalist,  — does  not  cosset 
or  pamper  us.  We  must  see  that  the  world  is 
rough  and  surly,  and  will  not  mind  drowning  a man 
or  a woman,  but  swallows  your  ship  like  a grain  of 
dust.  The  cold,  inconsiderate  of  persons,  tingles 
your  blood,  benumbs  your  feet,  freezes  a man  like 
an  apple.  The  diseases,  the  elements,  fortune,  grav- 
ity, lightning,  respect  no  persons.  The  way  of 
Providence  is  a little  rude.  The  habit  of  snake  and 
spider,  the  snap  of  the  tiger  and  other  leapers  and 
bloody  jumpers,  the  crackle  of  the  bones  of  his  prey 
in  the  coil  of  the  anaconda,  — these  are  in  the  sys- 
tem, and  our  habits  are  like  theirs.  You  have 


FATE. 


1 Q 

lo 

just  dined,  and  however  scrupulously  the  slaughter- 
house is  concealed  in  the  graceful  distance  of  miles, 
there  is  complicity,  expensive  races,  — race  living 
at  the  expense  of  race.  The  planet  is  liable  to 
shocks  from  comets,  perturbations  from  planets, 
rendings  from  earthquake  and  volcano,  alterations 
of  climate,  precessions  of  equinoxes.  Rivers  dry  up 
by  opening  of  the  forest.  The  sea  changes  its  bed. 
Towns  and  counties  fall  into  it.  At  Lisbon  an 
earthquake  killed  men  like  flies.  At  Naples  three 
years  ago  ten  thousand  persons  were  crushed  in  a 
few  minutes.  The  scurvy  at  sea,  the  sword  of  the 
climate  in  the  west  of  Africa,  at  Cayenne,  at  Pan- 
ama, at  New  Orleans,  cut  off  men  like  a massacre. 
Our  western  prairie  shakes  with  fever  and  ague. 
The  cholera,  the  small-pox,  have  proved  as  mor- 
tal to  some  tribes  as  a frost  to  the  crickets,  which, 
having  filled  the  summer  with  noise,  are  silenced 
by  a fall  of  the  temperature  of  one  night.  Without 
uncovering  what  does  not  concern  us,  or  counting 
how  many  species  of  parasites  hang  on  a bombyx,  or 
groping  after  intestinal  parasites  or  infusory  biters, 
or  the  obscurities  of  alternate  generation,  — the 
forms  of  the  shark,  the  labrus , the  jaw  of  the  sea- 
wolf  paved  with  crushing  teeth,  the  weapons  of  the 
grampus,  and  other  warriors  hidden  in  the  sea,  are 
hints  of  ferocity  in  the  interiors  of  nature.  Let  us 
not  deny  it  up  and  down.  Providence  has  a wild, 


14 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


rough,  incalculable  road  to  its  end,  and  it  is  of  no 
use  to  try  to  whitewash  its  huge,  mixed  instrumen- 
talities, or  to  dress  up  that  terrific  benefactor  in 
a clean  shirt  and  white  neckcloth  of  a student  in 
divinity. 

Will  you  say,  the  disasters  which  threaten  man- 
kind are  exceptional,  and  one  need  not  lay  his  ac- 
count for  cataclysms  every  day  ? Aye,  but  what 
happens  once  may  happen  again,  and  so  long  as 
these  strokes  are  not  to  be  parried  by  us  they  must 
be  feared. 

But  these  shocks  and  ruins  are  less  destructive 
to  us  than  the  stealthy  power  of  other  laws  which 
act  on  us  daily.  An  expense  of  ends  to  means  is 
fate  ; — organization  tyrannizing  over  character. 
The  menagerie,  or  forms  and  powers  of  the  spine, 
is  a book  of  fate  ; the  bill  of  the  bird,  the  skull  of 
the  snake,  determines  tyrannically  its  limits.  So 
is  the  scale_of_mces,  of  temperaments ; so  is  sex ; 
so  is  climate ; so  is  the  reaction  of  talents  imprison- 
ing the  vital  power  in  certain  directions.  Every 
spirit  makes  its  house ; but  afterwards  the  house 
confines  the  spirit. 

The  gross  lines  are  legible  to  the  dull ; the  cab- 
man is  phrenologist-  so  far,  he  looks  in  your  face  to 
see  if  his  shilling  is  sure.  A dome  of  brow  denotes 
one  thing,  a pot-belly  another ; a squint,  a pug- 
nose,  mats  of  hair,  the  pigment  of  the  epidermis, 


FATE. 


15 


betray  character.  People  seem  sheathed  in  their 
tough  organization.  Ask  Spurzheim,  ask  the  doc- 
tors, ask  Quetelet  if  temperaments  decide  nothing  ? 
— or  if  there  be  anything  *tlicy  do  not  decide  ? 
Read  the  description  in  medical  books  of  the  four 
temperaments  and  you  will  think  you  are  reading 
your  own  thoughts  which  you  had  not  yet  told. 
Find  the  part  which  black  eyes  and  which  blue 
eyes  play  severally  in  the  company.  How  shall  a 
man  escape  from  his  ancestors,  or  draw  off  from 
his  veins  the  black  drop  which  he  drew  from  his 
father’s  or  his  mother’s  life  ? It  often  appears  in  a 
family  as  if  all  the  qualities  of  the  progenitors  were 
potted  in  several  jars,  — some  ruling  quality  in  each 
son  or  daughter  of  the  house  ; and  sometimes  the 
unmixed  temperament,  the  rank  unmitigated  elixir, 
the  family  vice,  is  drawn  off  in  a separate  indi- 
vidual and  the  others  are  proportionally  relieved. 
We  sometimes  see  a change  of  expression  in  our 
companion  and  say  his  father  or  his  mother  comes 
to  the  windows  of  his  eyes,  and  sometimes  a remote 
relative.  In  different  hours  a man  represents  each 
of  several  of  his  ancestors,  as  if  there  were  seven 
or  eight  of  us  rolled  up  in  each  man’s  skin,  — seven 
or  eight  ancestors  at  least ; and  they  constitute 
the  variety  of  notes  for  that  new  piece  of  music 
which  his  life  is.  At  the  corner  of  the  street  you 
read  the  possibility  of  each  passenger  in  the  facial 


16 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


angle,  in  the  complexion,  in  the  depth  of  his  eye. 
His  parentage  determines  it.  Men  are  what  their 
mothers  made  them.  You  may  as  well  ask  a loom 
which  weaves  huckaback  why  it  does  not  make 
cashmere,  as  expect  poetry  from  this  engineer,  or  a 
chemical  discovery  from  that  jobber.  Ask  the  dig- 
ger in  the  ditch  to  explain  Newton’s  laws  ; the  fine 
organs  of  his  brain  have  been  pinched  by  overwork 
and  squalid  poverty  from  father  to  son  for  a hun- 
dred years.  When  each  comes  forth  from  his 
mother’s  womb,  the  gate  of  gifts  closes  behind  him. 
Let  him  value  his  hands  and  feet,  he  has  but  one 
pair.  So  hejhas  but  one  future,  and  that  is  already 
predetermined  in  his  lobes  and  described  in  that 
little  fatty  face,  pig-eye,  and  squat  form.  All  the 
privilege  and  all  the  legislation  of  the  world  can- 
not meddle  or  help  to  make  a poet  or  a prince  of 
him. 

Jesus  said,  “ When  he  looketh  on  her,  he  hath 
committed  adultery.”  But  he  is  an  adulterer  be- 
fore he  has  yet  looked  on  the  woman,  by  the  super- 
fluity of  animal  and  the  defect  of  thought  in  his 
constitution.  Who  meets  him,  or  who  meets  her, 
in  the  street,  sees  that  they  are  ripe  to  be  each 
other’s  victim. 

In  certain  men  digestion  and  sex  absorb  the  vital 
force,  and  the  stronger  these  are,  the  individual  is 
so  much  weaker.  The  more  of  these  drones  perish, 


FATE. 


17 


the  better  for  the  hive.  If,  later,  they  give  birth 
to  some  superior  individual,  with  force  enough  to 
add  to  this  animal  a new  aim  and  a complete  ap- 
paratus to  work  it  out,  all  the  ancestors  are  gladly 
forgotten.  Most  men  and  most  women  are  merely 
one  couple  more.  Now  and  then  one  has  a new 
cell  or  camarilla  opened  in  his  brain,  — an  archi- 
tectural, a musical,  or  a philological  knack ; some 
stray  taste  or  talent  for  flowers,  or  chemistry,  or 
pigments,  or  story-telling ; a good  hand  for  draw- 
ing, a good  foot  for  dancing,  an  athletic  frame  for 
wide  journeying,  &c.  — which  skill  nowise  alters 
rank  in  the  scale  of  nature,  but  serves  to  pass  the 
time  ; the  life  of  sensation  going  on  as  before.  At 
last  these  hints  and  tendencies  are  fixed  in  one  or 
in  a succession.  Each  absorbs  so  much  food  and 
force  as  to  become  itself  a new  centre.  The  new 
talent  draws  off  so  rapidly  the  vital  force  that  not 
enough  remains  for  the  animal  functions,  hardly 
enough  for  health;  so  that  in  the  second  genera- 
tion, if  the  like  genius  appear,  the  health  is  visibly 
deteriorated  and  the  generative  force  impaired. 

People  are  born  with  the  moral  or  with  the  ma- 
terial bias  ; — uterine  brothers  with  this  diverging 
destination;  and  I suppose,  with  high  magnifiers, 
Mr.  Frauenhofer  or  Dr.  Carpenter  might  come  to 
distinguish  in  the  embryo,  at  the  fourth  day, — • 
this  is  a Whig,  and  that  a Free-soiler. 

VOL.  VI.  2 


18 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


It  was  a poetic  attempt  to  lift  this  mountain 
of  Fate,  to  reconcile  this  despotism  of  race  with 
liberty,  which  led  the  Hindoos  to  say,  “Fate  is 
nothing  but  the  deeds  committed  in  a prior  state 
of  existence.”  I find  the  coincidence  of  the  ex- 
tremes of  Eastern  and  Western  speculation  in  the 
daring  statement  of  Schelling,  “ There  is  in  every 
man  a certain  feeling  that  he  has  been  what  he  is 
from  all  eternity,  and  by  no  means  became  such 
in  time.”  To  say  it  less  sublimely,  — - in  the  his- 
tory of  the  individual  is  always  an  account  of  his 
condition,  and  he  knows  himself  to  be  a party  to 
his  present  estate. 

A good  deal  of  our  politics  is  physiological. 
Now  and  then  a man  of  wealth  in  the  heyday  of 
youth  adopts  the  tenet  of  broadest  freedom.  In 
England  there  is  always  some  man  of  wealth  and 
large  connection,  planting  himself,  during  all  his 
years  of  health,  on  the  side  of  progress,  who, 
as  soon  as  he  begins  to  die,  checks  his  forward 
play,  calls  in  his  troops  and  becomes  conservative. 
All  conservatives  are  such  from  personal  defects. 
They  have  been  effeminated  by  position  or  nature, 
born  halt  and  blind,  through  luxury  of  their  par- 
ents, and  can  only,  like  invalids,  act  on  the  de- 
fensive. But  strong  natures,  backwoodsmen,  New 
Hampshire  giants,  Napoleons,  Burkes,  Broughams, 
Websters,  Kossuths,  are  inevitable  patriots,  until 


FATE.  19 

their  life  ebbs  and  their  defects  and  gout,  palsy 
and  money,  warp  them. 

The  strongest  idea  incarnates  itself  in  majorities 
and  nations,  in  the  healthiest  and  strongest.  Prob- 
ably the  election  goes  by  avoirdupois  weight,  and 
if  you  could  weigh  bodily  the  tonnage  of  any  hun- 
dred of  the  Whig  and  the  Democratic  party  in  a 
town  on  the  Dearborn  balance,  as  they  passed  the 
hay-scales,  you  could  predict  with  certainty  which 
party  would  carry  it.  On  the  whole  it  would  be 
rather  the  speediest  way  of  deciding  the  vote,  to 
put  the  selectmen  or  the  mayor  and  aldermen  at 
the  hay-scales. 

In  science  we  have  to  consider  two  things ; 
power  and  circumstance.  All  we  know  of  the  egg, 
from  each  successive  discovery,  is,  another  vesicle; 
and  if,  after  five  hundred  years  you  get  a better 
observer  or  a better  glass,  he  finds,  within  the  last 
observed,  another.  In  vegetable  and  animal  tis- 
sue it  is  just  alike,  and  all  that  the  primary  power 
or  spasm  operates  is  still  vesicles,  vesicles.  Yes, 
— but  the  tyrannical  Circumstance ! A vesicle 
in  new  circumstances,  a vesicle  lodged  in  dark- 
ness, Oken  thought,  became  animal;  in  light,  a 
plant.  Lodged  in  the  parent  animal,  it  suffers 
changes  which  end  in  unsheathing  miraculous  ca- 
pability in  the  unaltered  vesicle,  and  it  unlocks 
itself  to  fish,  bird,  or  quadruped,  head  and  foot, 


20 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


eye  and  claw.  The  Circumstance  is  Nature.  Nar 
ture  is  what  you  may  do.  There  is  much  you  may 
not.  We  have  two  things,  — the  circumstance,  and 
the  life.  Once  we  thought  positive  power  was 
all.  Now  we  learn  that  negative  power,  or  circum- 
stance, is  half.  Nature  is  the  tyrannous  circum- 
stance, the  thick  skull,  the  sheathed  snake,  the 
ponderous,  rock-like  jaw  ; necessitated  activity  ; 
violent  direction ; the  conditions  of  a tool,  like  the 
locomotive,  strong  enough  on  its  track,  but  which 
can  do  nothing  but  mischief  off  of  it ; or  skates, 
which  are  wings  on  the  ice  but  fetters  on  the 
ground. 

The  book  of  Nature  is  the  book  of  Fate.  She 
turns  the  gigantic  pages,  — leaf  after  leaf,  — never 
re-turning  one.  One  leaf  she  lays  down,  a floor 
of  granite;  then  a thousand  ages,  and  a bed  of 
slate ; a thousand  ages,  and  a measure  of  coal ; a 
thousand  ages,  and  a layer  of  marl  and  mud : veg- 
etable forms  appear ; her  first  misshapen  animals, 
zoophyte,  trilobium,  fish  ; then,  saurians,  — rude 
forms,  in  which  she  has  only  blocked  her  future 
statue,  concealing  under  these  unwieldly  monsters 
the  fine  type  of  her  coming  king.  The  face  of  the 
planet  cools  and  dries,  the  races  meliorate,  and 
man  is  born.  But  when  a race  has  lived  its  term, 
it  comes  no  more  again. 

The  population  of  the  world  is  a conditional 


FATE. 


21 


population ; not  the  best,  but  the  best  that  could 
live  now ; and  the  scale  of  tribes,  and  the  steadi- 
ness with  which  victory  adheres  to  one  tribe  and 
defeat  to  another,  is  as  uniform  as  the  superposi- 
tion of  strata.  We  know  in  history  what  weight 
belongs  to  race.  We  see  the  English,  French,  and 
Germans  planting  themselves  on  every  shore  and 
market  of  America  and  Australia,  and  monopo- 
lizing the  commerce  of  these  countries.  We  like 
the  nervous  and  victorious  habit  of  our  own  branch 
of  the  family.  We  follow  the  step  of  the  Jew, 
of  the  Indian,  of  the  Negro.  We  see  how  much 
will  has  been  expended  to  extinguish  the  Jew,  in 
vain.  Look  at  the  unpalatable  conclusions  of 
Knox,  in  his  “ Fragment  of  Races ; ” — a rash  and 
unsatisfactory  writer,  but  charged  with  pungent 
and  unforgetable  truths.  “Nature  respects  race, 
and  not  hybrids.”  “ Every  race  has  its  own  hab- 
itat” “ Detach  a colony  from  the  race,  and  it  de- 
teriorates to  the  crab.”  See  the  shades  of  the 
picture.  The  German  and  Irish  millions,  like 
the  Negro,  have  a great  deal  of  guano  in  their 
destiny.  They  are  ferried  over  the  Atlantic  and 
carted  over  America,  to  ditch  and  to  drudge,  to 
make  corn  cheap  and  then  to  lie  down  prematurely 
to  make  a spot  of  green  grass  on  the  prairie. 

One  more  fagot  of  these  adamantine  bandages 
is  the  new  science  of  Statistics.  It  is  a rule  that 


22 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


the  most  casual  and  extraordinary  events,  if  the 
basis  of  population  is  broad  enough,  become  mat- 
ter of  fixed  calculation.  It  would  not  be  safe  to 
say  when  a captain  like  Bonaparte,  a singer  like 
Jenny  Lind,  or  a navigator  like  Bowditch  would 
be  born  in  Boston ; but,  on  a population  of  twenty 
or  two  hundred  millions,  something  like  accuracy 
may  be  had.1 

?T  is  frivolous  to  fix  pedantically  the  date  of  par- 
ticular inventions.  They  have  all  been  invented 
over  and  over  fifty  times.  Man  is  the  arch  ma- 
chine of  which  all  these  shifts  drawn  from  himself 
are  toy  models.  He  helps  himself  on  each  emer- 
gency by  copying  or  duplicating  his  own  structure, 
just  so  far  as  the  need  is.  ’T  is  hard  to  find  the 
right  Homer,  Zoroaster,  or  Menu  ; harder  still  to 
find  the  Tubal  Cain,  or  Vulcan,  or  Cadmus,  or 
Copernicus,  or  Fust,  or  Fulton ; the  indisputable 
inventor.  There  are  scores  and  centuries  of  them. 
“ The  air  is  full  of  men.”  This  kind  of  talent  so 
abounds,  this  constructive  tool-making  efficiency, 
as  if  it  adhered  to  the  chemic  atoms  ; as  if  the  air 

1 " Everything  which  pertains  to  the  human  species,  con- 
sidered as  a whole,  belongs  to  the  order  of  physical  facts. 
The  greater  the  number  of  individuals,  the  more  does  the 
influence  of  the  individual  will  disappear,  leaving  predomi- 
nance to  a series  of  general  facts  dependent  on  causes  by 
which  society  exists,  and  is  preserved.”  — Quetelet. 


FATE.  23 

he  breathes  were  made  of  Vaucansons,  Franklins, 
and  Watts. 

Doubtless  in  every  million  there  will  be  an  as- 
tronomer, a mathematician,  a comic  poet,  a mystic. 
No  one  can  read  the  history  of  astronomy  without 
perceiving  that  Copernicus,  Newton,  Laplace,  are 
not  new  men,  or  a new  kind  of  men,  but  that 
Thales,  Anaximenes,  Hipparchus,  Empedocles,  Ar- 
istarchus, Pythagoras,  CEnipodes,  had  anticipated 
them ; each  had  the  same  tense  geometrical  brain, 
apt  for  the  same  vigorous  computation  and  logic ; 
a mind  parallel  to  the  movement  of  the  world. 
The  Roman  mile  probably  rested  on  a measure  of  a 
degree  of  the  meridian.  Mahometan  and  Chinese 
know  what  we  know  of  leap-year,  of  the  Gregorian 
calendar,  and  of  the  precession  of  the  equinoxes. 
As  in  every  barrel  of  cowries  brought  to  New  Bed- 
ford there  shall  be  one  orangia , so  there  will,  in  a 
dozen  millions  of  Malays  and  Mahometans,  be  one 
or  two  astronomical  skulls.  In  a large  city,  the 
most  casual  things,  and  things  whose  beauty  lies  in 
their  casualty,  are  produced  as  punctually  and  to 
order  as  the  baker’s  muffin  for  breakfast.  Punch 
makes  exactly  one  capital  joke  a week ; and  the 
journals  contrive  to  furnish  one  good  piece  of  news 
every  day. 

And  not  less  work  the  laws  of  repression,  the 
penalties  of  violated  functions.  Famine,  typhus, 


24 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


frost,  war,  suicide  and  effete  races  must  be  reck- 
oned calculable  parts  of  tbe  system  of  the  world. 

These  are  pebbles  from  the  mountain,  hints  of 
the  terms  by  which  our  life  is  walled  up,  and  which 
show  a kind  of  mechanical  exactness,  as  of  a loom 
or  mill,  in  what  we  call  casual  or  fortuitous  events. 

The  force  with  which  we  resist  these  torrents  of 
tendency  looks  so  ridiculously  inadequate  that  it 
amounts  to  little  more  than  a criticism  or  a protest 
made  by  a minority  of  one,  under  compulsion  of 
millions.  I seemed  in  the  height  of  a tempest  to 
see  men  overboard  struggling  in  the  waves,  and 
driven  about  here  and  there.  They  glanced  intel- 
ligently at  each  other,  but ’t  was  little  they  could  do 
for  one  another ; ?t  was  much  if  each  could  keep 
afloat  alone.  Well,  they  had  a right  to  their  eye- 
beams,  and  all  the  rest  was  Fate. 

.We  cannot  trifle  with  this  reality,  this  cropping- 
out  in  our  planted  gardens  of  the  core  of  the  world. 
No  picture  of  life  can  have  any  veracity  that  does 
not  admit  the  odious  facts.  A man’s  power  is 
hooped  in  by  a necessity  which,  by  many  experi- 
ments, he  touches  on  every  side  until  he  learns  its 
arc. 

The  element  running  through  entire  nature, 
which  we  popularly  call  Fate,  is  known  to  us  as 
limitation.  Whatever  limits  us  we  call  Fate.  If 


FATE. 


25 


we  are  brute  and  barbarous,  the  fate  takes  a brute 
and  dreadful  shape.  As  we  refine,  our  checks 
become  finer.  If  we  rise  to  spiritual  culture,  the 
antagonism  takes  a spiritual  form.  In  the  Hindoo 
fables,  Vishnu  follows  Maya  through  all  her  ascend- 
ing changes,  from  insect  and  crawfish  up  to  ele- 
phant ; whatever  form  she  took,  he  took  the  male 
form  of  that  kind,  until  she  became  at  last  woman 
and  goddess,  and  he  a man  and  a god.  The  lim- 
itations refine  as  the  soul  purifies,  but  the  ring  of 
necessity  is  always  perched  at  the  top. 

When  the  gods  in  the  Norse  heaven  were  unable 
to  bind  the  Fenris  Wolf  with  steel  or  with  weight 
of  mountains,  — the  one  he  snapped  and  the  other 
he  spurned  with  his  heel,  — they  put  round  his  foot 
a limp  band  softer  than  silk  or  cobweb,  and  this 
held  him ; the  more  he  spurned  it  the  stiffer  it 
drew.  So  soft  and  so  stanch  is  the  ring  of  Fate. 
Neither  brandy,  nor  nectar,  nor  sulphuric  ether, 
nor  hell-fire,  nor  ichor,  nor  poetry,  nor  genius,  can 
get  rid  of  this  limp  band.  For  if  we  give  it  the 
high  sense  in  which  the  poets  use  it,  even  thought 
itself  is  not  above  Fate ; that  too  must  act  accord- 
ing to  eternal  laws,  and  all  that  is  wilful  and  fan- 
tastic in  it  is  in  opposition  to  its  fundamental 
essence. 

And  last  of  all,  high  over  thought,  in  the  world 
of  morals,  Fate  appears  as  vindicator,  levelling  the 


26 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


high,  lifting  the  low,  requiring  justice  in  man, 
and  always  striking  soon  or  late  when  justice  is 
not  done.  What  is  useful  will  last ; what  is  hurt- 
ful will  sink.  “ The  doer  must  suffer,”  said  the 
Greeks ; “ you  would  soothe  a Deity  not  to  be 
soothed.”  “ God  himself  cannot  procure  good  for 
the  wicked,”  said  the  Welsh  triad.  “ God  may 
consent,  but  only  for  a time,”  said  the  bard  of 
Spain.  The  limitation  is  impassable  by  any  in- 
sight of  man.  In  its  last  and  loftiest  ascensions, 
insight  itself  and  the  freedom  of  the  will  is  one 
of  its  obedient  members.  But  we  must  not  run 
into  generalizations  too  large,  but  show  the  nat- 
ural bounds  or  essential  distinctions,  and  seek  to 
do  justice  to  the  other  elements  as  well. 

Thus  we  trace  Fate  in  matter,  mind,  and  morals; 
in  race,  in  retardations  of  strata,  and  in  thought 
and  character  as  well.  It  is  everywhere  bound  or 
limitation.  But  Fate  has  its  lord;  limitation  its 
limits,  — is  different  seen  from  above  and  from 
below,  from  within  and  from  without.  For  though 
Fate  is  immense,  so  is  Power,  which  is  the  other 
fact  in  the  dual  world,  immense.  If  Fate  follows 
and  limits  Power,  Power  attends  and  antagonizes 
Fate.  We  must  respect  Fate  as  natural  history, 
but  there  is  more  than  natural  history.  For  who 
and  what  is  this  criticism  that  pries  into  the  mat- 


FATE . 


27 


ter?  Man  is  not  order  of  nature,  sack  and  sack, 
belly  and  members,  link  in  a chain,  nor  any  igno- 
minious baggage;  but  a stupendous  antagonism,  a 
dragging  together  of  the  poles  of  the  Universe.  He 
betrays  his  relation  to  what  is  below  him,  — thick- 
skulled,  small-brained,  fishy,  quadrumanous,  quad- 
ruped ill-disguised,  hardly  escaped  into  biped, — 
and  has  paid  for  the  new  powers  by  loss  of  some  of 
the  old  ones.  But  the  lightning  which  explodes 
and  fashions  planets,  maker  of  planets  and  suns,  is 
in  him.  On  one  side  elemental  order,  sandstone 
and  granite,  rock-ledges,  peat-bog,  forest,  sea  and 
shore ; and  on  the  other  part  thought,  the  spirit 
which  composes  and  decomposes  nature,  — here 
they  are,  side  by  side,  god  and  devil,  mind  and 
matter,  king  and  conspirator,  belt  and  spasm,  rid- 
ing peacefully  together  in  the  eye  and  brain  of 
every  man. 

Nor  can  he  blink  the  freewill.  To  hazard  the 
contradiction,  — freedom  is  necessary.  If  you 
please  to  plant  yourself  on  the  side  of  Fate,  and 
say,  Fate  is  all ; then  we  say,  a part  of  Fate  is  the 
freedom  of  man.  Forever  wells  up  the  impulse 
of  choosing  and  acting  in  the  soul.  Intellect  an- 
nulsFate.  So  far  as  a man  thinks,  he  is  free. 
And  though  nothing  is  more  disgusting  than  the 
crowing  about  liberty  by  slaves,  as  most  men  are, 
and  the  flippant  mistaking  for  freedom  of  some 


28 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


paper  preamble  like  a “ Declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence ” or  the  statute  right  to  vote,  by  those 
who  have  never  dared  to  think  or  to  act,  — yet  it  is 
wholesome  to  man  to  look  not  at  Fate,  but  the 

i 

other  way : the  practical  view  is  the  other.  His 
sound  relation  to  these  facts  is  to  use  and  command, 
not  to  cringe  to  them.  “ Look  not  on  Nature,  for 
her  name  is  fatal,”  said  the  oracle.  The  too  much 
contemplation  of  these  limits  induces  meanness. 
They  who  talk  much  of  destiny,  their  birth-star, 
&c.,  are  in  a lower  dangerous  plane,  and  invite 
the  evils  they  fear. 

I cited  the  instinctive  and  heroic  races  as  proud 
believers  in  Destiny.  They  conspire  with  it ; a 
loving  resignation  is  with  the  event.  But  the 
dogma  makes  a different  impression  when  it  is 
held  by  the  weak  and  lazy.  ?Tis  weak  and  vi- 
cious people  who  cast  the  blame  on  Fate.  The 
right  use  of  Fate  is  to  bring  up  our  conduct  to  the 
loftiness  of  nature.  Rude  and  invincible  except 
by  themselves  are  the  elements.  So  let  man  be. 
Let  him  empty  his  breast  of  his  windy  conceits, 
and  show  his  lordship  by  manners  and  deeds  on 
the  scale  of  nature.  Let  him  hold  his  purpose  as 
with  the  tug  of  gravitation.  No  power,  no  per- 
suasion, no  bribe  shall  make  him  give  up  his  point. 
A man  ought  to  compare  advantageously  with  a 
river,  an  oak,  or  a mountain.  He  shall  have  not 


FATE.  29 

less  the  flow,  the  expansion,  and  the  resistance  of 
these. 

’T  is  the  best  use  of  Fate  to  teach  a fatal  cour- 
age. Go  face  the  fire  at  sea,  or  the  cholera  in 
your  friend’s  house,  or  the  burglar  in  your  own, 
or  what  danger  lies  in  the  way  of  duty, — knowing 
you  are  guarded  by  the  cherubim  of  Destiny.  If 
you  believe  in  Fate  to  your  harm,  believe  it  at 
least  for  your  good. 

For  if  Fate  is  so  prevailing,  man  also  is  part 
of  it,  and  can  confront  fate  with  fate.  If  the  Uni- 
verse have  these  savage  accidents,  our  atoms  are 
as  savage  in  resistance.  We  should  be  crushed 
by  the  atmosphere,  but  for  the  reaction  of  the  air 
within  the  body.  A tube  made  of  a film  of  glass 
can  resist  the  shock  of  the  ocean  if  filled  with  the 
same  water.  If  there  be  omnipotence  in  the 
stroke,  there  is  omnipotence  of  recoil. 

1.  But  Fate  against  Fate  is  only  parrying  and 
defence:  there  are  also  the  noble  creative  forces. 
The  revelation  of  Thought  takes  man  out  of  servi- 
tude into  freedom.  We  rightly  say  of  ourselves, 
we  were  born  and  afterward  we  were  born  again, 
and  many  times.  We  have  successive  experiences 
so  important  that  the  new  forgets  the  old,  and 
hence  the  mythology  of  the  seven  or  the  nine  heav- 
ens. The  day  of  days,  the  great  day  of  the  feast 
of  life,  is  that  in  which  the  inward  eye  opens  to 


30 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


the  Unity  in  things,  to  the  omnipresence  of  law  : 
— sees  that  what  is  must  be  and  ought  to  be,  or  is 
the  best.  This  beatitude  dips  from  on  high  down 
on  us  and  we  see.  It  is  not  in  us  so  much  as  we 
are  in  it.  If  the  air  come  to  our  lungs,  we  breathe 
and  live  ; if  not,  we  die.  If  the  light  come  to  our 
eyes,  we  see ; else  not.  And  if  truth  come  to  our 
mind  we  suddenly  expand  to  its  dimensions,  as  if 
we  grew  to  worlds.  We  are  as  lawgivers ; we 
speak  for  Nature ; we  prophesy  and  divine. 

This  insight  throws  us  on  the  party  and  interest 
of  the  Universe,  against  all  and  sundry ; against 
ourselves  as  much  as  others.  A man  speaking 
from  insight  affirms  of  himself  what  is  true  of  the 
mind  : seeing  its  immortality,  he  says,  I am  immor- 
tal ; seeing  its  invincibility,  he  says,  I am  strong. 
It  is  not  in  us,  but  we  are  in  it.  It  is  of  the 
maker,  not  of  what  is  made.  All  things  are 
touched  and  changed  by  it.  This  uses  and  is  not 
used.  It  distances  those  who  share  it  from  those 
who  share  it  not.  Those  who  share  it  not  are 
flocks  and  herds.  It  dates  from  itself ; not  from 
former  men  or  better  men,  gospel,  or  constitution, 
or  college,  or  custom.  Where  it  shines,  Nature  is 
no  longer  intrusive,  but  all  things  make  a musical 
or  pictorial  impression.  The  world  of  men  show 
like  a comedy  without  laughter : populations,  inter- 
ests, government,  history ; ’t  is  all  toy  figures  in  a 


FATE. 


31 


toy  "house.  It  does  not  ovei  value  particular  truths. 
We  hear  eagerly  every  thought  and  word  quoted 
from  an  intellectual  man.  But  in  his  presence  our 
own  mind  is  roused  to  activity,  and  we  forget  very 
fast  what  he  says,  much  more  interested  in  the  new 
play  of  our  own  thought  than  in  any  thought  of 
his.  ’T  is  the  majesty  into  which  we  have  suddenly 
mounted,  the  impersonality,  the  scorn  of  egotisms, 
the  sphere  of  laws,  that  engage  us.  Once  we  were 
stepping  a little  this  way  and  a little  that  way  ; 
now  we  are  as  men  in  a balloon,  and  do  not  think 
so  much  of  the  point  we  have  left,  or  the  point  we 
would  make,  as  of  the  liberty  and  glory  of  the 
way. 

Just  as  much  intellect  as  you  add,  so  much  or- 
ganic power.  He  who  sees  through  the  design,  pre- 
sides over  it,  and  must  will  that  which  must  be. 
We  sit  and  rule,  and,  though  we  sleep,  our  dream 
will  come  to  pass.  Our  thought,  though  it  were 
only  an  hour  old,  affirms  an  oldest  necessity,  not  to 
be  separated  from  thought,  and  not  to  be  separated 
from  will.  They  must  always  have  coexisted.  It 
apprises  us  of  its  sovereignty  and  godhead,  which 
refuse  to  be  severed  from  it.  It  is  not  mine  or 
thine,  but  the  will  of  all  mind.  It  is  poured  into 
the  souls  of  all  men,  as  the  soul  itself  which  consti- 
tutes them  men.  I know  not  whether  there  be,  as 
is  alleged,  in  the  upper  region  of  our  atmosphere,  a 


32 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


permanent  westerly  current  which  carries  with  it 
all  atoms  which  rise  to  that  height,  but  I see  that 
when  souls  reach  a certain  clearness  of  perception 
they  accept  a knowledge  and  motive  above  selfish- 
ness. A breath  of  will  blows  eternally  through 
the  universe  of  souls  in  the  direction  of  the  Right 
and  Necessary.  It  is  the  air  which  all  intellects 
inhale  and  exhale,  and  it  is  the  wind  which  blows 
the  worlds  into  order  and  orbit. 

Thought  dissolves  the  material  universe  by  car- 
rying the  mind  up  into  a sphere  where  all  is  plas- 
tic. Of  two  men,  each  obeying  his  own  thought, 
he  whose  thought  is  deepest  will  be  the  strongest 
character.  Always  one  man  more  than  another 
represents  the  will  of  Divine  Providence  to  the 
period. 

2.  If  thought  makes  free,  so  does  the  moral  sen- 
timent. The  mixtures  of  spiritual  chemistry  re- 
fuse to  be  analyzed.  Yet  we  can  see  that  with  the 
perception  of  truth  is  joined  the  desire  that  it  shall 
prevail ; that  affection  is  essential  to  will.  More- 
over, when  a strong  will  appears,  it  usually  results 
from  a certain  unity  of  organization,  as  if  the  whole 
energy  of  body  and  mind  flowed  in  one  direction. 
All  great  force  is  real  and  elemental.  There  is 
no  manufacturing  a strong  will.  There  must  be  a 
pound  to  balance  a pound.  Where  power  is  shown 
in  will,  it  must  rest  on  the  universal  force.  Alarm 


FATE. 


33 


and  Bonaparte  must  believe  they  rest  on  a truth, 
or  their  will  can  be  bought  or  bent.  There  is  a 
bribe  possible  for  any  finite  will.  But  the  pure 
sympathy  with  universal  ends  is  an  infinite  force, 
and  cannot  be  bribed  or  bent.  Whoever  has  had 
experience  of  the  moral  sentiment  cannot  choose 
but  believe  in  unlimited  power.  Each  pulse  from 
that  heart  is  an  oath  from  the  Most  High.  I know 
not  what  the  word  sublime  means,  if  it  be  not  the 
intimations,  in  this  infant,  of  a terrific  force.  A 
text  of  heroism,  a name  and  anecdote  of  courage, 
are  not  arguments  but  sallies  of  freedom.  One  of 
these  is  the  verse  of  the  Persian  Hafiz,  46  ’T  is  writ- 
ten on  the  gate  of  Heaven,  4 Woe  unto  him  who  suf- 
fers himself  to  be  betrayed  by  Fate  ! ’ ” Does  the 
reading  of  history  make  us  fatalists  ? What  cour- 
age does  not  the  opposite  opinion  show ! A lit- 
tle whim  of  will  to  be  free  gallantly  contending 
against  the  universe  of  chemistry. 

But  insight  is  not  will,  nor  is  affection  will. 
Perception  is  cold,  and  goodness  dies  in  wishes. 
As  Yoltaire  said,  ’t  is  the  misfortune  of  worthy  peo- 
ple that  they  are  cowards  ; 44  un  des  plus  grands 
malheurs  des  honnetes  gens  dest  quHls  sont  des 
laches .”  There  must  be  a fusion  of  these  two  to 
generate  the  energy  of  will.  There  can  be  no 
driving  force  except  through  the  conversion  of  the 
man  into  his  will,  making  him  the  will,  and  the 

VOL.  VI.  3 


34 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


will  him.  And  one  may  say  boldly  that  no  man 
has  a right  perception  of  any  truth  who  has  not 
been  reacted  on  by  it  so  as  to  be  ready  to  be  its 
martyr. 

The  one  serious  and  formidable  thing  in  nature 
is  a will.  Society  is  servile  from  want  of  will,  and 
therefore  the  world  wants  saviours  and  religions. 
One  way  is  right  to  go ; the  hero  sees  it,  and 
moves  on  that  aim,  and  has  the  world  under  him 
for  root  and  support.  He  is  to  others  as  the  world. 
His  approbation  is  honor ; his  dissent,  infamy.  The 
glance  of  his  eye  has  the  force  of  sunbeams.  A 
personal  influence  towers  up  in  memory  only  wor- 
thy, and  we  gladly  forget  numbers,  money,  climate, 
gravitation,  and  the  rest  of  Fate. 

We  can  afford  to  allow  the  limitation,  if  we 
know  it  is  the  meter  of  the  growing  man.  We 
stand  against  Fate,  as  children  stand  up  against  the 
wall  in  their  father’s  house  and  notch  their  height 
from  year  to  year.  But  when  the  boy  grows  to 
man,  and  is  master  of  the  house,  he  pulls  down  that 
wall  and  builds  a new  and  bigger.  ’T  is  only  a 
question  of  time.  Every  brave  youth  is  in  train- 
ing to  ride  and  rule  this  dragon.  His  science  is 
to  make  weapons  and  wings  of  these  passions  and 
retarding  forces.  Now  whether,  seeing  these  two 
things,  fate  and  power,  we  are  permitted  to  believe 


FATE. 


85 


in  unity?  The  bulk  of  mankind  believe  in  two 
gods.  They  are  under  one  dominion  here  in  the 
house,  as  friend  and  parent,  in  social  circles,  in 
letters,  in  art,  in  love,  in  religion ; but  in  mechan- 
ics, in  dealing  with  steam  and  climate,  in  trade,  in 
politics,  they  think  they  come  under  another  ; and 
that  it  would  be  a practical  blunder  to  transfer 
the  method  and  way  of  working  of  one  sphere  into 
the  other.  What  good,  honest,  generous  men  at 
home,  will  be  wolves  and  foxes  on  ’Change!  What 
pious  men  in  the  parlor  will  vote  for  what  repro- 
bates at  the  polls ! To  a certain  point,  they  believe 
themselves  the  care  of  a Providence.  But  in  a 
steamboat,  in  an  epidemic,  in  war,  they  believe  a 
malignant  energy  rules. 

But  relation  and  connection  are  not  somewhere 
and  sometimes,  but  everywhere  and  always.  The 
divine  order  does  not  stop  where  their  sight  stops. 
The  friendly  power  works  on  the  same  rules  in  the 
next  farm  and  the  next  planet.  But  where  they 
have  not  experience  they  run  against  it  and  hurt 
themselves.  Fate  then  is  a name  for  facts  not  yet 
passed  under  the  fire  of  thought ; for  causes  which 
are  unpenetrated. 

But  every  jet  of  chaos  which  threatens  to  exter- 
minate us  is  convertible  by  intellect  into  wholesome 
force.  Fate  is  unpenetrated  causes.  The  water 
drowns  ship  and  sailor  like  a grain  of  dust.  But 


36 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


learn  to  swim,  trim  your  bark,  and  the  wave  which 
drowned  it  will  be  cloven  by  it  and  carry  it  like 
its  own  foam,  a plume  and  a power.  The  cold  is 
inconsiderate  of  persons,  tingles  your  blood,  freezes 
a man  like  a dew-drop.  But  learn  to  skate,  and 
the  ice  will  give  you  a graceful,  sweet,  and  poetic 
motion.  The  cold  will  brace  your  limbs  and  brain 
to  genius,  and  make  you  foremost  men  of  time. 
Cold  and  sea  will  train  an  imperial  Saxon  race, 
which  nature  cannot  bear  to  lose,  and  after  cooping 
it  up  for  a thousand  years  in  yonder  England,  gives 
a hundred  Englands,  a hundred  Mexicos.  All  the 
bloods  it  shall  absorb  and  domineer  : and  more 
than  Mexicos,  the  secrets  of  water  and  steam,  the 
spasms  of  electricity,  the  ductility  of  metals,  the 
chariot  of  the  air,  the  ruddered  balloon  are  await- 
ing you. 

The  annual  slaughter  from  typhus  far  exceeds 
that  of  war ; but  right  drainage  destroys  typhus. 
The  plague  in  the  sea-service  from  scurvy  is  healed 
by  lemon  juice  and  other  diets  portable  or  procur- 
able ; the  depopulation  by  cholera  and  small-pox 
is  ended  by  drainage  and  vaccination  ; and  every 
other  pest  is  not  less  in  the  chain  of  cause  and 
effect,  and  may  be  fought  off.  And  whilst  art 
draws  out  the  venom,  it  commonly  extorts  some 
benefit  from  the  vanquished  enemy.  The  mis- 
chievous torrent  is  taught  to  drudge  for  man ; the 


FATE. 


37 


wild  beasts  lie  makes  useful  for  food,  or  dress,  or 
labor  ; the  chemic  explosions  are  controlled  like  his 
watch.  These  are  now  the  steeds  on  which  he 
rides.  Man  moves  in  all  modes,  by  legs  of  horses, 
by  wings  of  wind,  by  steam,  by  gas  of  balloon,  by 
electricity,  and  stands  on  tiptoe  threatening  to  hunt 
the  eagle  in  his  own  element.  There  ’s  nothing  he 
will  not  make  his  carrier. 

Steam  was  till  the  other  day  the  devil  which  we 
dreaded.  Every  pot  made  by  any  human  potter  or 
brazier  had  a hole  in  its  cover,  to  let  off  the  enemy, 
lest  he  should  lift  pot  and  roof  and  carry  the  house 
away.  But  the  Marquis  of  Worcester,  Watt,  and 
Fulton  bethought  themselves  that  where  was  power 
was  not  devil,  but  was  God ; that  it  must  be  availed 
of,  and  not  by  any  means  let  off  and  wasted. 
Could  he  lift  pots  and  roofs  and  houses  so  handily? 
He  was  the  workman  they  were  in  search  of.  He 
could  be  used  to  lift  away,  chain  and  compel  other 
devils  far  more  reluctant  and  dangerous,  namely 
cubic  miles  of  earth,  mountains,  weight  or  resist- 
ance of  water,  machinery,  and  the  labors  of  all 
men  in  the  world;  and  time  he  shall  lengthen, 
and  shorten  space. 

It  has  not  fared  much  otherwise  with  higher 
kinds  of  steam.  The  opinion  of  the  million  was 
the  terror  of  the  world,  and  it  was  attempted  either 
to  dissipate  it,  by  amusing  nations,  or  to  pile  it 


38 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


over  with  strata  of  society,  — a layer  of  soldiers, 
over  that  a layer  of  lords,  and  a king  on  the  top  ; 
with  clamps  and  hoops  of  castles,  garrisons,  and  po- 
lice. But  sometimes  the  religious  principle  would 
get  in  and  burst  the  hoops  and  rive  every  mountain 
laid  on  top  of  it.  The  Fultons  and  Watts  of  pol- 
itics, believing  in  unity,  saw  that  it  was  a power, 
and  by  satisfying  it  ( as  justice  satisfies  every- 
body), through  a different  disposition  of  society, — 
grouping  it  on  a level  instead  of  piling  it  into  a 
mountain, — they  have  contrived  to  make  of  this 
terror  the  most  harmless  and  energetic  form  of  a 
State. 

Very  odious,  I confess,  are  the  lessons  of  Fate. 
Who  likes  to  have  a dapper  phrenologist  pronounc- 
ing on  his  fortunes  ? Who  likes  to  believe  that  he 
has,  hidden  in  his  skull,  spine,  and  pelvis,  all  the 
vices  of  a Saxon  or  Celtic  race,  which  will  be  sure 
to  pull  him  down,  — with  what  grandeur  of  hope 
and  resolve  he  is  fired,  — into  a selfish,  huckster- 
ing, servile,  dodging  animal?  A learned  physi- 
cian tells  us  the  fact  is  invariable  with  the  Neapol- 
itan, that  when  mature  he  assumes  the  forms  of 
the  unmistakable  scoundrel.  That  is  a little  over- 
stated, — but  may  pass. 

But  these  are  magazines  and  arsenals.  A man 
must  thank  his  defects,  and  stand  in  some  terror 
of  his  talents.  A transcendent  talent  draws  so 


FATE. 


39 


largely  on  his  forces  as  to  lame  him  ; a defect  pays 
him  revenues  on  the  other  side.  The  sufferance 
which  is  the  badge  of  the  Jew,  has  made  him,  in 
these  days,  the  ruler  of  the  rulers  of  the  earth.  If 
Fate  is  ore  and  quarry,  if  evil  is  good  in  the  mak- 
ing, if  limitation  is  power  that  shall  be,  if  calami- 
ties, oppositions,  and  weights  are  wings  and  means, 

— we  are  reconciled. 

Fate  involves  the  melioration.  No  statement  of 
the  Universe  can  have  any  soundness  which  does 
not  admit  its  ascending  effort.  The  direction  of 
the  whole  and  of  the  parts  is  toward  benefit,  and 
in  proportion  to  the  health.  Behind  every  individ- 
ual closes  organization  ; before  him  opens  liberty, 

— the  Better,  the  Best.  The  first  and  worse  races 
are  dead.  The  second  and  imperfect  races  are  dy- 
ing out,  or  remain  for  the  maturing  of  higher.  In 
the  latest  race,  in  man,  every  generosity,  every  new 
perception,  the  love  and  praise  he  extorts  from  his 
fellows,  are  certificates  of  advance  out  of  fate  into 
freedom.  Liberation  of  the  will  from  the  sheaths 
and  clogs  of  organization  which  he  has  outgrown, 
is  the  end  and  aim  of  this  world.  Every  calamity 
is  a spur  and  valuable  hint ; and  where  his  endeav- 
ors do  not  yet  fully  avail,  they  tell  as  tendency. 
The  whole  circle  of  animal  life,  — tooth  against 
tooth,  devouring  war,  war  for  food,  a yelp  of  pain 
and  a grunt  of  triumph,  until  at  last  the  whole  me- 


40 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


nagerie,  the  whole  chemical  mass  is  mellowed  and 
refined  for  higher  use,  — pleases  at  a sufficient  per- 
spective. 

But  to  see  how  fate  slides  into  freedom  and  free- 
dom into  fate,  observe  how  far  the  roots  of  every 
creature  run,  or  find  if  you  can  a point  where  there 
is  no  thread  of  connection.  Our  life  is  consenta- 
neous and  far-related.  This  knot  of  nature  is  so 
well  tied  that  nobody  was  ever  cunning  enough  to 
find  the  two  ends.  Nature  is  intricate,  over-lapped, 
interweaved  and  endless.  Christopher  Wren  said 
of  the  beautiful  King’s  College  chapel,  that  “ if 
anybody  would  tell  him  where  to  lay  the  first  stone, 
he  would  build  such  another.”  But  where  shall 
we  find  the  first  atom  in  this  house  of  man,  which 
is  all  consent,  inosculation,  and  balance  of  parts  ? 

The  web  of  relation  is  shown  in  habitat , shown 
in  hibernation.  When  hibernation  was  observed, 
it  was  found  that  whilst  some  animals  became  tor- 
pid in  winter,  others  were  torpid  in  summer : hiber- 
nation then  was  a false  name,,  The  long  sleep  is 
not  an  effect  of  cold,  but  is  regulated  by  the  supply 
of  food  proper  to  the  animal.  It  becomes  torpid 
when  the  fruit  or  prey  it  lives  on  is  not  in  season, 
and  regains  its  activity  when  its  food  is  ready. 

Eyes  are  found  in  light ; ears  in  auricular  air  ; 
feet  on  land  ; fins  in  water  ; wings  in  air ; and  each 
creature  where  it  was  meant  to  be,  with  a mutual 


FATE. 


41 


fitness.  Every  zone  has  its  own  Fauna . There 
is  adjustment  between  the  animal  and  its  food,  its 
parasite,  its  enemy.  Balances  are  kept.  It  is  not 
allowed  to  diminish  in  numbers,  nor  to  exceed. 
The  like  adjustments  exist  for  man.  His  food  is 
cooked  when  he  arrives  ; his  coal  in  the  pit ; the 
house  ventilated  ; the  mud  of  the  deluge  dried  ; his 
companions  arrived  at  the  same  hour,  and  awaiting 
him  with  love,  concert,  laughter  and  tears.  These 
are  coarse  adjustments,  but  the  invisible  are  not 
less.  There  are  more  belongings  to  every  creature 
than  his  air  and  his  food.  His  instincts  must  be 
met,  and  he  has  predisposing  power  that  bends  and 
fits  what  is  near  him  to  his  use.  He  is  not  possi- 
ble until  the  invisible  things  are  right  for  him,  as 
well  as  the  visible.  Of  what  changes  then  in  sky 
and  earth,  and  in  finer  skies  and  earths,  does  the 
appearance  of  some  Dante  or  Columbus  apprise 
us ! 

How  is  this  effected  ? Nature  is  no  spendthrift, 
but  takes  the  shortest  way  to  her  ends.  As  the 
general  says  to  his  soldiers,  “ If  you  want  a fort, 
build  a fort,”  so  nature  makes  every  creature  do  its 
own  work  and  get  its  living,  — is  it  planet,  animal 
or  tree.  The  planet  makes  itself.  The  animal  cell 
makes  itself ; — then,  what  it  wants.  Every  crea- 
ture, wren  or  dragon,  shall  make  its  own  lair.  As 
soon  as  there  is  life,  there  is  self-direction  and  ab- 


42 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


sorbing  and  using  of  material.  Life  is  freedom,  — 
life  in  the  direct  ratio  of  its  amount.  You  may  be 
sure  the  new-born  man  is  not  inert.  Life  works 
both  voluntarily  and  supernaturally  in  its  neighbor- 
hood. Do  you  suppose  he  can  be  estimated  by  his 
weight  in  pounds,  or  that  he  is  contained  in  his 
skin,  — this  reaching,  radiating,  jaculating  fellow  ? 
The  smallest  candle  fills  a mile  with  its  rays,  and 
the  papillae  of  a man  run  out  to  every  star. 

When  there  is  something  to  be  done,  the  world 
knows  how  to  get  it  done.  The  vegetable  eye 
makes  leaf,  pericarp,  root,  bark,  or  thorn,  as  the 
need  is;  the  first  cell  converts  itself  into  stomach, 
mouth,  nose,  or  nail,  according  to  the  want ; the 
world  throws  its  life  into  a hero  or  a shepherd,  and 
puts  him  where  he  is  wanted.  Dante  and  Colum- 
bus were  Italians,  in  their  time ; they  would  be 
Russians  or  Americans  to-day.  Things  ripen,  new 
men  come.  The  adaptation  is  not  capricious.  The 
ulterior  aim,  the  purpose  beyond  itself,  the  corre- 
lation by  which  planets  subside  and  crystallize, 
then  animate  beasts  and  men,  — will  not  stop  but 
will  work  into  finer  particulars,  and  from  finer  to 
finest. 

The  secret  of  the  world  is  the  tie  between  person 
and  event.  Person  makes  event,  and  event  person. 
The  “ times,”  “ the  age,”  what  is  that  but  a few 
profound  persons  and  a few  active  persons  who 


FATE. 


43 


epitomize  tlie  times  ? — Goethe,  Hegel,  Metternich, 
Adams,  Calhoun,  Guizot,  Peel,  Cobden,  Kossuth, 
Rothschild,  Astor,  Brunei,  and  the  rest.  The  same 
fitness  must  be  presumed  between  a man  and  the 
time  and  event,  as  between  the  sexes,  or  between  a 
race  of  animals  and  the  food  it  eats,  or  the  inferior 
races  it  uses.  He  thinks  his  fate  alien,  because  the 
copula  is  hidden.  But  the  soul  contains  the  event 
that  shall  befall  it ; for  the  event  is  only  the  actual- 
ization of  its  thoughts,  and  what  we  pray  to  our- 
selves for  is  always  granted.  The  event  is  the  print 
of  your  form.  It  fits  you  like  your  skin.  What 
each  does  is  proper  to  him.  Events  are  the  children 
of  his  body  and  mind.  We  learn  that  the  soul  of 
Fate  is  the  soul  of  us,  as  Hafiz  sings,  — 

“ Alas  ! till  now  I had  not  known, 

My  guide  and  fortune’s  guide  are  one.” 

All  the  toys  that  infatuate  men  and  which  they 
play  for,  — houses,  land,  money,  luxury,  power, 
fame,  are  the  selfsame  thing,  with  a new  gauze  or 
two  of  illusion  overlaid.  And  of  all  the  drums 
and  rattles  by  which  men  are  made  willing  to  have 
their  heads  broke,  and  are  led  out  solemnly  every 
morning  to  parade,  — the  most  admirable  is  this 
by  which  we  are  brought  to  believe  that  events  are 
arbitrary  and  independent  of  actions.  At  the  con- 
juror’s, we  detect  the  hair  by  which  he  moves  his 


44 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


puppet,  but  we  have  not  eyes  sharp  enough  to  de- 
scry the  thread  that  ties  cause  and  effect. 

Nature  magically  suits  the  man  to  his  fortunes, 
by  making  these  the  fruit  of  his  character.  Ducks 
take  to  the  water,  eagles  to  the  sky,  waders  to  the 
sea  margin,  hunters  to  the  forest,  clerks  to  counting- 
rooms,  soldiers  to  the  frontier.  Thus  events  grow 
on  the  same  stem  with  persons  ; are  sub-persons. 
The  pleasure  of  life  is  according  to  the  man  that 
lives  it,  and  not  according  to  the  work  or  the  place. 
Life  is  an  ecstasy.  We  know  what  madness  be- 
longs to  love,  — what  power  to  paint  a vile  object 
in  hues  of  heaven.  As  insane  persons  are  indiffer- 
ent to  their  dress,  diet,  and  other  accommodations, 
and  as  we  do  in  dreams,  with  equanimity,  the  most 
absurd  acts,  so  a drop  more  of  wine  in  our  cup  of 
life  will  reconcile  us  to  strange  company  and  work. 
Each  creature  puts  forth  from  itself  its  own  con- 
dition and  sphere,  as  the  slug  sweats  out  its  slimy 
house  on  the  pear-leaf,  and  the  woolly  aphides  on 
the  apple  perspire  their  own  bed,  and  the  fish  its 
shell.  In  youth  we  clothe  ourselves  with  rainbows 
and  go  as  brave  as  the  zodiac.  In  age  we  put  out 
another  sort  of  perspiration,  — gout,  fever,  rheuma- 
tism, caprice,  doubt,  fretting  and  avarice. 

A man’s  fortunes  are  the  fruit  of  his  character. 
A man’s  friends  are  his  magnetisms.  We  go  to 
Herodotus  and  Plutarch  for  examples  of  Fate ; but 


FATE. 


45 


we  are  examples.  “ Quisque  suos  patimur  manes” 
The  tendency  of  every  man  to  enact  all  that  is  in 
his  constitution  is  expressed  in  the  old  belief  that 
the  efforts  which  we  make  to  escape  from  our  des- 
tiny only  serve  to  lead  us  into  it:  and  I have  no- 
ticed a man  likes  better  to  be  complimented  on  his 
position,  as  the  proof  of  the  last  or  total  excellence, 
than  on  his  merits. 

A man  will  see  his  character  emitted  in  the 
events  that  seem  to  meet,  but  which  exude  from 
and  accompany  him.  Events  expand  with  the  char- 
acter. As  once  he  found  himself  among  toys,  so 
now  he  plays  a part  in  colossal  systems,  and  his 
growth  is  declared  in  his  ambition,  his  companions 
and  his  performance.  He  looks  like  a piece  of  luck, 
but  is  a piece  of  causation ; the  mosaic,  angulated 
and  ground  to  fit  into  the  gap  he  fills.  Hence  in 
each  town  there  is  some  man  who  is,  in  his  brain 
and  performance,  an  explanation  of  the  tillage,  pro- 
duction, factories,  banks,  churches,  ways  of  living 
and  society  of  that  town.  If  you  do  not  chance  to 
meet  him,  all  that  you  see  will  leave  you  a little 
puzzled;  if  you  see  him  it  will  become  plain.  We 
know  in  Massachusetts  who  built  New  Bedford,  who 
built  Lynn,  Lowell,  Lawrence,  Clinton,  Fitchburg, 
Holyoke,  Portland,  and  many  another  noisy  mart. 
Each  of  these  men,  if  they  were  transparent,  would 
seem  to  you  not  so  much  men  as  walking  cities,  and 
wherever  you  put  them  they  would  build  one. 


46 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


History  is  the  action  and  reaction  of  these  two, 
— Nature  and  Thought ; two  boys  pushing  each 
other  on  the  curbstone  of  the  pavement.  Every- 
thing is  pusher  or  pushed;  and  matter  and  mind 
are  in  perpetual  tilt  and  balance,  so.  Whilst  the 
man  is  weak,  the  earth  takes  up  him.  He  plants 
his  brain  and  affections.  By  and  by  he  will  take 
up  the  earth,  and  have  his  gardens  and  vineyards 
in  the  beautiful  order  and  productiveness  of  his 
thought.  Every  solid  in  the  universe  is  ready  to 
become  fluid  on  the  approach  of  the  mind,  and  the 
power  to  flux  it  is  the  measure  of  the  mind.  If 
the  wall  remain  adamant,  it  accuses  the  want  of 
thought.  To  a subtler  force  it  will  stream  into 
new  forms,  expressive  of  the  character  of  the  mind. 
What  is  the  city  in  which  we  sit  here,  but  an  aggre- 
gate of  incongruous  materials  which  have  obeyed 
the  will  of  some  man  ? The  granite  was  reluctant, 
but  his  hands  were  stronger,  and  it  came.  Iron  was 
deep  in  the  ground  and  well  combined  with  stone, 
but  could  not  hide  from  his  fires.  Wood,  lime, 
stuffs,  fruits,  gums,  were  dispersed  over  the  earth 
and  sea,  in  vain.  Here  they  are,  within  reach  of 
every  man’s  day-labor,  — what  he  wants  of  them. 
The  whole  world  is  the  flux  of  matter  over  the 
wires  of  thought  to  the  poles  or  points  where  it 
would  build.  The  races  of  men  rise  out  of  the 
ground  preoccupied  with  a thought  which  rules 


FATE. 


47 


them,  and  divided  into  parties  ready  armed  and 
angry  to  fight  for  this  metaphysical  abstraction. 
The  quality  of  the  thought  differences  the  Egyp- 
tian and  the  Roman,  the  Austrian  and  the  Amer- 
ican. The  men  who  come  on  the  stage  at  one 
period  are  all  found  to  be  related  to  each  other. 
Certain  ideas  are  in  the  air.  We  are  all  impres- 
sionable, for  we  are  made  of  them  ; all  impression- 
able, but  some  more  than  others,  and  these  first  ex- 
press them.  This  explains  the  curious  contempora- 
neousness of  inventions  and  discoveries.  The  truth 
is  in  the  air,  and  the  most  impressionable  brain 
will  announce  it  first,  but  all  will  announce  it  a few 
minutes  later.  So  women,  as  most  susceptible,  are 
the  best  index  of  the  coming  hour.  So  the  great 
man,  that  is,  the  man  most  imbued  with  the  spirit  of 
the  time,  is  the  impressionable  man  ; — of  a fibre 
irritable  and  delicate,  like  iodine  to  light.  He  feels 
the  infinitesimal  attractions.  His  mind  is  righter 
than  others  because  he  yields  to  a current  so  feeble 
as  can  be  felt  only  by  a needle  delicately  poised. 

The  correlation  is  shown  in  defects.  Moller,  in 
his  Essay  on  Architecture,  taught  that  the  build- 
ing which  was  fitted  accurately  to  answer  its  end 
would  turn  out  to  be  beautiful  though  beauty  had 
not  been  intended.  I find  the  like  unity  in  human 
structures  rather  virulent  and  pervasive ; that  a 
crudity  in  the  blood  will  appear  in  the  argument ; 


48 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


a hump  in  the  shoulder  will  appear  in  the  speech 
and  handiwork.  If  his  mind  could  be  seen,  the 
hump  would  be  seen.  If  a man  has  a seesaw  in 
his  voice,  it  will  run  into  his  sentences,  into  his 
poem,  into  the  structure  of  his  fable,  into  his  spec- 
ulation, into  his  charity.  And  as  every  man  is 
hunted  by  his  own  daemon,  vexed  by  his  own  dis- 
ease, this  checks  all  his  activity. 

So  each  man,  like  each  plant,  has  his  parasites. 
A strong,  astringent,  bilious  nature  has  more  truc- 
ulent enemies  than  the  slugs  and  moths  that  fret 
my  leaves.  Such  an  one  has  curculios,  borers, 
knife-worms ; a swindler  ate  him  first,  then  a cli- 
ent, then  a quack,  then  smooth,  plausible  gentle- 
men, bitter  and  selfish  as  Moloch. 

This  correlation  really  existing  can  be  divined. 
If  the  threads  are  there,  thought  can  follow  and 
show  them.  Especially  when  a soul  is  quick  and 
docile,  as  Chaucer  sings  ; — 

“ Or  if  the  soul  of  proper  kind 
Be  so  perfect  as  men  find, 

That  it  wot  what  is  to  come, 

And  that  he  warneth  all  and  some 
Of  every  of  their  aventures, 

By  previsions  or  figures  ; 

But  that  our  flesh  hath  not  might 
It  to  understand  aright 
For  it  is  warned  too  darkly.” 

Some  people  are  made  up  of  rhyme,  coincidence, 


FATE. 


49 


omen,  periodicity,  and  presage  : they  meet  the  per- 
son they  seek ; what  their  companion  prepares  to 
say  to  them,  they  first  say  to  him ; and  a hundred 
signs  apprise  them  of  what  is  about  to  befall. 

Wonderful  intricacy  in  the  web,  wonderful  con- 
stancy in  the  design  this  vagabond  life  admits. 
We  wonder  how  the  fly  finds  its  mate,  and  yet 
year  after  year,  we  find  two  men,  two  women, 
without  legal  or  carnal  tie,  spend  a great  part  of 
their  best  time  within  a few  feet  of  each  other. 
And  the  moral  is  that  what  we  seek  we  shall  find ; 
what  we  flee  from  flees  from  us ; as  Goethe  said, 
“ what  we  wish  for  in  youth,  comes  in  heaps  on  us 
in  old  age,”  too  often  cursed  with  the  granting  of 
our  prayer : and  hence  the  high  caution,  that  since 
we  are  sure  of  having  what  we  wish,  we  beware  to 
ask  only  for  high  things. 

One  key,  one  solution  to  the  mysteries  of  human 
condition,  one  solution  to  the  old  knots  of  fate, 
freedom,  and  foreknowledge,  exists  ; the  propound- 
ing, namely,  of  the  double  consciousness.  A man 
must  ride  alternately  on  the  horses  of  his  private 
and  his  public  nature,  as  the  equestrians  in  the 
circus  throw  themselves  nimbly  from  horse  to 
horse,  or  plant  one  foot  on  the  back  of  one  and 
the  other  foot  on  the  back  of  the  other.  So  when 
a man  is  the  victim  of  his  fate,  has  sciatica  in  his 
loins  and  cramp  in  his  mind;  a club-foot  and  a 


50 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


club  in  his  wit ; a sour  face  and  a selfish  temper ; 
a strut  in  his  gait  and  a conceit  in  his  affection ; 
or  is  ground  to  powder  by  the  vice  of  his  race  ; — 
he  is  to  rally  on  his  relation  to  the  Universe, 
which  his  ruin  benefits.  Leaving  the  daemon  who 
suffers,  he  is  to  take  sides  with  the  Deity  who  se- 
cures universal  benefit  by  his  pain. 

To  offset  the  drag  of  temperament  and  race, 
which  pulls  down,  learn  this  lesson,  namely  that 
by  the  cunning  co-presence  of  two  elements,  which 
is  throughout  nature,  whatever  lames  or  paralyzes 
you  draws  in  with  it  the  divinity,  in  some  form, 
to  repay.  A good  intention  clothes  itself  with 
sudden  power.  When  a god  wishes  to  ride,  any 
chip  or  pebble  will  bud  and  shoot  out  winged  feet 
and  serve  him  for  a horse. 

Let  us  build  altars  to  the  Blessed  Unity  which 
holds  nature  and  souls  in  perfect  solution,  and  com- 
pels every  atom  to  serve  an  universal  end.  I do 
not  winder  at  a snow-flake,  a shell,  a summer  land- 
scape, or  the  glory  of  the  stars ; but  at  the  necessity 
of  beauty  under  which  the  universe  lies ; that  all  , 
is  and  must  be  pictorial ; that  the  rainbow  and  the 
curve  of  the  horizon  and  the  arch  of  the  blue  vault 
are  only  results  from  the  organism  of  the  eye. 
There  is  no  need  for  foolish  amateurs  to  fetch  me 
to  admire  a garden  of  flowers,  or  a sun-gilt  cloud, 
or  a waterfall,  when  I cannot  look  without  seeing 


FATE. 


51 


splendor  and  grace.  How  idle  to  choose  a random 
sparkle  here  or  there,  when  the  indwelling  neces- 
sity plants  the  rose  of  beauty  on  the  brow  of  chaos, 
and  discloses  the  central  intention  of  Nature  to  be 
harmony  and  joy. 

Let  us  build  altars  to  the  Beautiful  Necessity. 
If  we  thought  men  were  free  in  the  sense  that  in  a 
single  exception  one  fantastical  will  could  prevail 
over  the  law  of  things,  it  were  all  one  as  if  a child’s 
hand  could  pull  down  the  sun.  If  in  the  least  par- 
ticular one  could  derange  the  order  of  nature,  — 
who  would  accept  the  gift  of  life  ? 

Let  us  build  altars  to  the  Beautiful  Necessity, 
which  secures  that  all  is  made  of  one  piece ; that 
plaintiff  and  defendant,  friend  and  enemy,  animal 
and  planet,  food  and  eater  are  of  one  kind.  In  as- 
tronomy is  vast  space  but  no  foreign  system ; in 
geology,  vast  time  but  the  same  laws  as  to-day. 
Why  should  we  be  afraid  of  Nature,  which  is  no 
other  than  “ philosophy  and  theology  embodied  ” ? 
Why  should  we  fear  to  be  crushed  by  savage  ele- 
ments,  we  who  are  made  up  of  the  same  elements  ? 
Let  us  build  to  the  Beautiful  Necessity,  which  makes 
man  brave  in  believing  that  he  cannot  shun  a dan- 
ger that  is  appointed,  nor  incur  one  that  is  not ; to 
the  Necessity  which  rudely  or  softly  educates  him 
to  the  perception  that  there  are  no  contingencies  ; 
that  Law  rules  throughout  existence ; a Law  which 


52 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


is  not  intelligent  but  intelligence ; — not  personal 
nor  impersonal  — it  disdains  words  and  passes  un- 
derstanding ; it  dissolves  persons ; it  vivifies  nature ; 
yet  solicits  the  pure  in  heart  to  draw  on  all  its  om- 
nipotenceo 


II. 

POWER. 


His  tongue  was  framed  to  music, 
And  his  hand  was  armed  with  skill 
His  face  was  the  mould  of  beauty, 
And  his  heart  the  throne  of  will. 


POWER. 


There  is  not  yet  any  inventory  of  a man’s  fac- 
ulties, any  more  than  a bible  of  his  opinions.  Who 
shall  set  a limit  to  the  influence  of  a human  being  ? 
There  are  men  who  by  their  sympathetic  attrac- 
tions carry  nations  with  them  and  lead  the  activity 
of  the  human  race.  And  if  there  be  such  a tie 
that  wherever  the  mind  of  man  goes,  nature  will 
accompany  him,  perhaps  there  are  men  whose  mag- 
netisms are  of  that  force  to  draw  material  and  ele- 
mental powers,  and,  where  they  appear,  immense 
instrumentalities  organize  around  them.  Life  is  a 
search  after  power ; and  this  is  an  element  with 
which  the  world  is  so  saturated,  — there  is  no  chink 
or  crevice  in  which  it  is  not  lodged,  — that  no  hon- 
est seeking  goes  unrewarded.  A man  should  prize 
events  and  possessions  as  the  ore  in  which  this  fine 
mineral  is  found ; and  he  can  well  afford  to  let 
events  and  possessions  and  the  breath  of  the  body 
go,  if  their  value  has  been  added  to  him  in  the 
shape  of  power.  If  he  have  secured  the  elixir,  he 
can  spare  the  wide  gardens  from  which  it  was  dis- 
tilled. A cultivated  man,  wise  to  know  and  bold 
to  perform,  is  the  end  to  which  Nature  works,  and 


56 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


the  education  of  the  will  is  the  flowering  and  re* 
suit  of  all  this  geology  and  astronomy. 

All  successful  men  have  agreed  in  one  thing,  — 
they  were  causationists.  They  believed  that  things 
went  not  by  luck,  but  by  law ; that  there  was  not 
a weak  or  a cracked  link  in  the  chain  that  joins 
the  first  and  last  of  things.  A belief  in  causality, 
or  strict  connection  between  every  pulse-beat  and 
the  principle  of  being,  and,  in  consequence,  belief 
in  compensation,  or  that  nothing  is  got  for  nothing, 
— characterizes  all  valuable  minds,  and  must  con- 
trol every  effort  that  is  made  by  an  industrious 
one.  The  most  valiant  men  are  the  best  believers 
in  the  tension  of  the  laws.  “ All  the  great  cap- 
tains,” said  Bonaparte,  “have  performed  vast 
achievements  by  conforming  with  the  rules  of  the 
art,  — by  adjusting  efforts  to  obstacles.” 

The  key  to  the  age  may  be  this,  or  that,  or  the 
other,  as  the  young  orators  describe;  the  key  to 
all  ages  is  — Imbecility ; imbecility  in  the  vast 
majority  of  men  at  all  times,  and  even  in  heroes 
in  all  but  certain  eminent  moments ; victims  of 
gravity,  custom,  and  fear.  This  gives  force  to  the 
strong,  — that  the  multitude  have  no  habit  of  self- 
reliance  or  original  action. 

We  must  reckon  success  a constitutional  trait. 
Courage,  the  old  physicians  taught  (and  their 
meaning  holds,  if  their  physiology  is  a little  myth- 


POWER. 


57 


ical),  — courage,  or  the  degree  of  life,  is  as  the 
degree  of  circulation  of  the  blood  in  the  arteries. 
“ During  passion,  anger,  fury,  trials  of  strength, 
wrestling,  fighting,  a large  amount  of  blood  is  col- 
lected in  the  arteries,  the  maintenance  of  bodily 
strength  requiring  it,  and  but  little  is  sent  into  the 
veins.  This  condition  is  constant  with  intrepid 
persons.”  Where  the  arteries  hold  their  blood,  is 
courage  and  adventure  possible.  Where  they  pour 
it  unrestrained  into  the  veins,  the  spirit  is  low  and 
feeble.  For  performance  of  great  mark,  it  needs 
extraordinary  health.  If  Eric  is  in  robust  health, 
and  has  slept  well,  and  is  at  the  top  of  his  condi- 
tion, and  thirty  years  old,  at  his  departure  from 
Greenland  he  will  steer  west,  and  his  ships  will 
reach  Newfoundland.  But  take  out  Eric  and  put 
in  a stronger  and  bolder  man,  — Biorn,  or  Thorfin, 
— and  the  ships  will,  with  just  as  much  ease,  sail 
six  hundred,  one  thousand,  fifteen  hundred  miles 
further,  and  reach  Labrador  and  New  England. 
There  is  no  chance  in  results.  With  adults,  as 
with  children,  one  class  enter  cordially  into  the 
game  and  whirl  with  the  whirling  world  ; the  others 
have  cold  hands  and  remain  bystanders  ; or  are 
only  dragged  in  by  the  humor  and  vivacity  of  those 
who  can  carry  a dead  weight.  The  first  wealth  is 
health.  Sickness  is  poor-spirited,  and  cannot  serve 
any  one  : it  must  husband  its  resources  to  live*  But 


58  CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 

health  or  fulness  answers  its  own  ends  and  has  to 
spare,  runs  over,  and  inundates  the  neighborhoods 
and  creeks  of  other  men’s  necessities. 

All  power  is  of  one  kind,  a sharing  of  the  nature 
of  the  world.  The  mind  that  is  parallel  with  the 
laws  of  nature  will  be  in  the  current  of  events  and 
strong  with  their  strength.  One  man  is  made  of 
the  same  stuff  of  which  events  are  made ; is  in 
sympathy  with  the  course  of  things ; can  predict  it. 
Whatever  befalls,  befalls  him  first ; so  that  he  is 
equal  to  whatever  shall  happen.  A man  who  knows 
men,  can  talk  well  on  politics,  trade,  law,  war,  re- 
ligion. For  everywhere  men  are  led  in  the  same 
manners. 

The  advantage  of  a strong  pulse  is  not  to  be  sup- 
plied by  any  labor,  art,  or  concert.  It  is  like  the 
climate,  which  easily  rears  a crop  which  no  glass, 
or  irrigation,  or  tillage,  or  manures  can  elsewhere 
rival.  It  is  like  the  opportunity  of  a city  like  New 
York  or  Constantinople,  which  needs  no  diplomacy 
to  force  capital  or  genius  or  labor  to  it.  They  come 
of  themselves,  as  the  waters  flow  to  it.  So  a broad, 
healthy,  massive  understanding  seems  to  lie  on  the 
shore  of  unseen  rivers,  of  unseen  oceans,  which  are 
covered  with  barks  that  night  and  day  are  drifted 
to  this  point.  That  is  poured  into  its  lap  which 
other  men  lie  plotting  for.  It  is  in  everybody’s 
secret ; anticipates  everybody’s  discovery ; and  if  it 


POWER . 


69 


do  not  command  every  fact  of  the  genius  and  the 
scholar,  it  is  because  it  is  large  and  sluggish,  and 
does  not  think  them  worth  the  exertion  which  you 
do. 

This  affirmative  force  is  in  one  and  is  not  in 
another,  as  one  horse  has  the  spring  in  him,  and 
another  in  the  whip.  “ On  the  neck  of  the  young 
man,”  said  Hafiz,  “ sparkles  no  gem  so  gracious  as 
enterprise.”  Import  into  any  stationary  district, 
as  into  an  old  Dutch  population  in  New  York  or 
Pennsylvania,  or  among  the  planters  of  Virginia, 
a colony  of  hardy  Yankees,  with  seething  brains, 
heads  full  of  steam-hammer,  pulley,  crank,  and 
toothed  wheel,  — and  everything  begins  to  shine 
with  values.  What  enhancement  to  all  the  water 
and  land  in  England  is  the  arrival  of  James  Watt 
or  Brunei ! In  every  company  there  is  not  only 
the  active  and  passive  sex,  but  in  both  men  and 
women  a deeper  and  more  important  sex  of  mind , 
namely  the  inventive  or  creative  class  of  both  men 
and  women,  and  the  uninventive  or  accepting  class. 
Each  plus  man  represents  his  set,  and  if  he  have 
the  accidental  advantage  of  personal  ascendency, — 
which  implies  neither  more  nor  less  of  talent,  but 
merely  the  temperamental  or  taming  eye  of  a soldier 
or  a schoolmaster  (which  one  has,  and  one  has  not, 
as  one  has  a black  moustache  and  one  a blonde), — 
then  quite  easily  and  without  envy  or  resistance  all 


60 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


his  coadjutors  and  feeders  will  admit  his  right  to 
absorb  them.  The  merchant  works  by  book-keeper 
and  cashier ; the  lawyer’s  authorities  are  hunted  up 
by  clerks ; the  geologist  reports  the  surveys  of  his 
subalterns;  Commander  Wilkes  appropriates  the 
results  of  all  the  naturalists  attached  to  the  Expe- 
dition; Thorwaldsen’s  statue  is  finished  by  stone- 
cutters ; Dumas  has  journeymen  ; and  Shakspeare 
was  theatre-manager  and  used  the  labor  of  many 
young  men,  as  well  as  the  playbooks. 

There  is  always  room  for  a man  of  force,  and 
he  makes  room  for  many.  Society  is  a troop  of 
thinkers,  and  the  best  heads  among  them  take  the 
best  places.  A feeble  man  can  see  the  farms  that 
are  fenced  and  tilled,  the  houses  that  are  built. 
The  strong  man  sees  the  possible  houses  and  farms. 
His  eye  makes  estates,  as  fast  as  the  sun  breeds 
clouds. 

When  a new  boy  comes  into  school,  when  a 
man  travels  and  encounters  strangers  every  day, 
or  when  into  any  old  club  a new  comer  is  do- 
mesticated, — that  happens  which  befalls  when  a 
strange  ox  is  driven  into  a pen  or  pasture  where 
cattle  are  kept ; there  is  at  once  a trial  of  strength 
between  the  best  pair  of  horns  and  the  new  comer, 
and  it  is  settled  thenceforth  which  is  the  leader. 
So  now,  there  is  a measuring  of  strength,  very 
courteous  but  decisive,  and  an  acquiescence  thence- 


POWER.  61 

forward  when  these  two  meet.  Each  reads  his  fate 
in  the  other’s  eyes.  The  weaker  party  finds  that 
none  of  his  information  or  wit  quite  fits  the  occa- 
sion. He  thought  he  knew  this  or  that ; he  finds 
that  he  omitted  to  learn  the  end  of  it.  Nothing 
that  he  knows  will  quite  hit  the  mark,  whilst  all 
the  rival’s  arrows  are  good,  and  well  thrown.  But 
if  he  knew  all  the  facts  in  the  encyclopedia,  it 
would  not  help  him ; for  this  is  an  affair  of  pres- 
ence of  mind,  of  attitude,  of  aplomb : the  opponent 
has  the  sun  and  wind,  and,  in  every  cast,  the  choice 
of  weapon  and  mark ; and  when  he  himself  is 
matched  with  some  other  antagonist,  his  own  shafts 
fly  well  and  hit.  ’T  is  a question  of  stomach  and 
constitution.  The  second  man  is  as  good  as  the 
first,  — perhaps  better ; but  has  not  stoutness  or 
stomach,  as  the  first  has,  and  so  his  wit  seems  over- 
fine or  under-fine. 

Health  is  good,  — power,  life,  that  resists  dis- 
ease, poison,  and  all  enemies,  and  is  conservative 
as  well  as  creative.  Here  is  question,  every  spring, 
whether  to  graft  with  wax,  or  whether  with  clay ; 
whether  to  whitewash,  or  to  potash,  or  to  prune ; but 
the  one  point  is  the  thrifty  tree.  A good  tree  that 
agrees  with  the  soil  will  grow  in  spite  of  blight,  or 
bug,  or  pruning,  or  neglect,  by  night  and  by  day,  in 
all  weathers  and  all  treatments.  Vivacity,  leader- 
ship, must  be  had,  and  we  are  not  allowed  to  be 


62 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


nice  in  choosing.  We  must  fetch  the  pump  with 
dirty  water,  if  clean  cannot  be  had.  If  we  will 
make  bread,  we  must  have  contagion,  yeast,  empty- 
ings, or  what  not,  to  induce  fermentation  into  the 
dough ; as  the  torpid  artist  seeks  inspiration  at  any 
cost,  by  virtue  or  by  vice,  by  friend  or  by  fiend,  by 
prayer  or  by  wine.  And  we  have  a certain  instinct 
that  where  is  great  amount  of  life,  though  gross 
and  peccant,  it  has  its  own  checks  and  purifications, 
and  will  be  found  at  last  in  harmony  with  moral 
laws. 

We  watch  in  children  with  pathetic  interest  the 
degree  in  which  they  possess  recuperative  force. 
When  they  are  hurt  by  us,  or  by  each  other,  or 
go  to  the  bottom  of  the  class,  or  miss  the  annual 
prizes,  or  are  beaten  in  the  game,  — if  they  lose 
heart  and  remember  the  mischance  in  their  cham- 
ber at  home,  they  have  a serious  check.  But  if 
they  have  the  buoyancy  and  resistance  that  pre- 
occupies them  with  new  interest  in  the  new  mo- 
ment, — the  wounds  cicatrize  and  the  fibre  is  the 
tougher  for  the  hurt. 

One  comes  to  value  this  plus  health  when  he 
sees  that  all  difficulties  vanish  before  it.  A timid 
man,  listening  to  the  alarmists  in  Congress  and  in 
the  newspapers,  and  observing  the  profligacy  of 
party,  — sectional  interests  urged  with  a fury  which 
shuts  its  eyes  to  consequences,  with  a mind  made 


POWER. 


63 


up  to  desperate  extremities,  ballot  in  one  band  and 
rifle  in  the  other,  — might  easily  believe  that  he 
and  his  country  have  seen  their  best  days,  and  he 
hardens  himself  the  best  he  can  against  the  coming 
ruin.  But  after  this  has  been  foretold  with  equal 
confidence  fifty  times,  and  government  six  per  cents 
have  not  declined  a quarter  of  a mill,  he  discovers 
that  the  enormous  elements  of  strength  which  are 
here  in  play  make  our  politics  unimportant.  Per- 
sonal power,  freedom,  and  the  resources  of  nature 
strain  every  faculty  of  every  citizen.  We  prosper 
with  such  vigor  that  like  thrifty  trees,  which  grow 
in  spite  of  ice,  lice,  mice,  and  borers,  so  we  do  not 
suffer  from  the  profligate  swarms  that  fatten  on  the 
national  treasury.  The  huge  animals  nourish  huge 
parasites,  and  the  rancor  of  the  disease  attests  the 
strength  of  the  constitution.  The  same  energy  in 
the  Greek  Demos,  drew  the  remark  that  the  evils 
of  popular  government  appear  greater  than  they 
are ; there  is  compensation  for  them  in  the  spirit 
and  energy  it  awakens.  The  rough-and-ready 
style  which  belongs  to  a people  of  sailors,  foresters, 
farmers,  and  mechanics,  has  its  advantages.  Power 
educates  the  potentate.  As  long  as  our  people  quote 
English  standards  they  dwarf  their  own  propor- 
tions. A Western  lawyer  of  eminence  said  to  me 
he  wished  it  were  a penal  offence  to  bring  an  Eng- 
lish law-book  into  a court  in  this  country,  so  perni- 


64 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


cious  had  he  found  in  his  experience  our  deference 
to  English  precedent.  The  very  word  4 commerce  ’ 
has  only  an  English  meaning,  and  is  pinched  to  the 
cramp  exigencies  of  English  experience.  The  com- 
merce of  rivers,  the  commerce  of  railroads,  and  who 
knows  but  the  commerce  of  air-balloons,  must  add 
an  American  extension  to  the  pond-hole  of  admiral- 
ty. As  long  as  our  people  quote  English  stand- 
ards they  will  miss  the  sovereignty  of  power ; but 
let  these  rough  riders  — legislators  in  shirt-sleeves, 
Hoosier,  Sucker,  Wolverine,  Badger,  or  whatever 
hard  head  Arkansas,  Oregon,  or  Utah  sends,  half 
orator,  half  assassin,  to  represent  its  wrath  and 
cupidity  at  Washington,  — let  these  drive  as  they 
may,  and  the  disposition  of  territories  and  public 
lands,  the  necessity  of  balancing  and  keeping  at 
bay  the  snarling  majorities  of  German,  Irish,  and 
of  native  millions,  will  bestow  promptness,  address, 
and  reason,  at  last,  on  our  buffalo-hunter,  and 
authority  and  majesty  of  manners.  The  instinct 
of  the  people  is  right.  Men  expect  from  good 
whigs  put  into  office  by  the  respectability  of  the 
country,  much  less  skill  to  deal  with  Mexico, 
Spain,  Britain,  or  with  our  own  malcontent  mem- 
bers, than  from  some  strong  transgressor,  like  Jef- 
ferson or  Jackson,  who  first  conquers  his  own  gov- 
ernment and  then  uses  the  same  genius  to  conquer 
the  foreigner.  The  senators  who  dissented  from 


POWER.  65 

Mr.  Polk’s  Mexican  war  were  not  those  who  knew 
better,  but  those  who  from  political  position  could 
afford  it ; not  Webster,  but  Benton  and  Calhoun. 

This  power  to  be  sure  is  not  clothed  in  satin. 
’T  is  the  power  of  Lynch  law,  of  soldiers  and 
pirates ; and  it  bullies  the  peaceable  and  loyal. 
But  it  brings  its  own  antidote  ; and  here  is  my 
point,  — that  all  kinds  of  power  usually  emerge  at 
the  same  time ; good  energy  and  bad  ; power  of 
mind  with  physical  health ; the  ecstasies  of  devo- 
tion with  the  exasperations  of  debauchery.  The 
same  elements  are  always  present,  only  sometimes 
these  conspicuous,  and  sometimes  those  ; what  was 
yesterday  foreground,  being  to-day  background  ; — 
what  was  surface,  playing  now  a not  less  effective 
part  as  basis.  The  longer  the  drought  lasts  the 
more  is  the  atmosphere  surcharged  with  water. 
The  faster  the  ball  falls  to  the  sun,  the  force  to  fly 
off  is  by  so  much  augmented.  And  in  morals, 
wild  liberty  breeds  iron  conscience;  natures  with 
great  impulses  have  great  resources,  and  return 
from  far.  In  politics,  the  sons  of  democrats  will 
be  whigs  ; whilst  red  republicanism  in  the  father  is 
a spasm  of  nature  to  engender  an  intolerable  tyrant 
in  the  next  age.  On  the  other  hand,  conservatism, 
ever  more  timorous  and  narrow,  disgusts  the  chil- 
dren and  drives  them  for  a mouthful  of  fresh  air 
into  radicalism. 


VOL.  VI. 


5 


66 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


Those  who  have  most  of  this  coarse  energy,  — 
the  4 bruisers,’  who  have  run  the  gauntlet  of  caucus 
and  tavern  through  the  county  or  the  state, — have 
their  own  vices,  but  they  have  the  good-nature  of 
strength  and  courage.  Fierce  and  unscrupulous, 
they  are  usually  frank  and  direct  and  above  false- 
hood. Our  politics  fall  into  bad  hands,  and  church- 
men and  men  of  refinement,  it  seems  agreed,  are 
not  fit  persons  to  send  to  Congress.  Politics  is  a 
deleterious  profession,  like  some  poisonous  handi- 
crafts. Men  in  power  have  no  opinions,  but  may 
be  had  cheap  for  any  opinion,  for  any  purpose; 
and  if  it  be  only  a question  between  the  most  civil 
and  the  most  forcible,  I lean  to  the  last.  These 
Hoosiers  and  Suckers  are  really  better  than  the 
snivelling  opposition.  Their  wrath  is  at  least  of  a 
bold  and  manly  cast.  They  see,  against  the  unan- 
imous declarations  of  the  people,  how  much  crime 
the  people  will  bear;  they  proceed  from  step  to 
step,  and  they  have  calculated  but  too  justly  upon 
their  Excellencies  the  New  England  governors, 
and  upon  their  Honors  the  New  England  legisla- 
tors. The  messages  of  the  governors  and  the  res- 
olutions of  the  legislatures  are  a proverb  for 
expressing  a sham  virtuous  indignation,  which,  in 
the  course  of  events,  is  sure  to  be  belied. 

In  trade  also  this  energy  usually  carries  a trace 
of  ferocity.  Philanthropic  and  religious  bodies  do 


POWER . 


G7 


not  commonly  make  their  executive  officers  out 
of  saints.  The  communities  hitherto  founded  by 
socialists,  — the  J esuits,  the  Port-Royalists,  the 
American  communities  at  New  Harmony,  at  Brook 
Farm,  at  Zoar,  are  only  possible  by  installing  Ju- 
das as  steward.  The  rest  of  the  offices  may  be 
filled  by  good  burgesses.  The  pious  and  charitable 
proprietor  has  a foreman  not  quite  so  pious  and 
charitable.  The  most  amiable  of  country  gentle- 
men has  a certain  pleasure  in  the  teeth  of  the  bull- 
dog which  guards  his  orchard.  Of  the  Shaker  so- 
ciety it  was  formerly  a sort  of  proverb  in  the  coun- 
try that  they  always  sent  the  devil  to  market.  And 
in  representations  of  the  Deity,  painting,  poetry, 
and  popular  religion  have  ever  drawn  the  wrath 
from  Hell.  It  is  an  esoteric  doctrine  of  society 
that  a little  wickedness  is  good  to  make  muscle ; 
as  if  conscience  were  not  good  for  hands  and  legs ; 
as  if  poor  decayed  formalists  of  law  and  order  can- 
not run  like  wild  goats,  wolves,  and  conies ; that 
as  there  is  a use  in  medicine  for  poisons,  so  the 
world  cannot  move  without  rogues ; that  public 
spirit  and  the  ready  hand  are  as  well  found  among 
the  malignants.  ’T  is  not  very  rare,  the  coinci- 
dence of  sharp  private  and  political  practice  with 
public  spirit  and  good  neighborhood.  I knew  a 
burly  Boniface  who  for  many  years  kept  a public- 
house  in  one  of  our  rural  capitals.  He  was  a 


68 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


knave  whom  the  town  could  ill  spare.  He  was 
a social,  vascular  creature,  grasping  and  selfish. 
There  was  no  crime  which  he  did  not  or  could  not 
commit.  But  he  made  good  friends  of  the  select- 
men, served  them  with  his  best  chop  when  they 
supped  at  his  house,  and  also  with  his  honor  the 
Judge  he  was  very  cordial,  grasping  his  hand.  He 
introduced  all  the  fiends,  male  and  female,  into 
the  town,  and  united  in  his  person  the  functions 
of  bully,  incendiary,  swindler,  barkeeper,  and  bur- 
glar. He  girdled  the  trees  and  cut  off  the  horses’ 
tails  of  the  temperance  people,  in  the  night.  He 
led  the  4 rummies’  and  radicals  in  town-meeting 
with  a speech.  Meantime  he  was  civil,  fat,  and 
easy,  in  his  house,  and  precisely  the  most  public- 
spirited  citizen.  He  was  active  in  getting  the 
roads  repaired  and  planted  with  shade-trees;  he 
subscribed  for  the  fountains,  the  gas,  and  the  tele- 
graph ; he  introduced  the  new  horse-rake,  the  new 
scraper,  the  baby-jumper,  and  what  not,  that  Con- 
necticut sends  to  the  admiring  citizens.  He  did 
this  the  easier  that  the  peddler  stopped  at  his 
house,  and  paid  his  keeping  by  setting  up  his  new 
trap  on  the  landlord’s  premises. 

Whilst  thus  the  energy  for  originating  and  exe- 
cuting work  deforms  itself  by  excess,  and  so  our 
axe  chops  off  our  own  fingers,  — this  evil  is  not 
without  remedy.  All  the  elements  whose  aid  man 


POWER. 


69 


calls  in  will  sometimes  become  his  masters,  espe- 
cially those  of  most  subtle  force.  Shall  he  then 
renounce  steam,  fire,  and  electricity,  or  shall  he 
learn  to  deal  with  them  ? The  rule  for  this  whole 
class  of  agencies  is,  — all  plus  is  good ; only  put  it 
in  the  right  place. 

Men  of  this  surcharge  of  arterial  blood  cannot 
live  on  nuts,  herb-tea,  and  elegies ; cannot  read 
novels  and  play  whist ; cannot  satisfy  all  their 
wants  at  the  Thursday  Lecture  or  the  Boston 
Athenaeum.  They  pine  for  adventure,  and  must 
go  to  Pike’s  Peak ; had  rather  die  by  the  hatchet 
of  a Pawnee  than  sit  all  day  and  every  day  at  a 
counting-room  desk.  They  are  made  for  war,  for 
the  sea,  for  mining,  hunting,  and  clearing ; for 
hair-breadth  adventures,  huge  risks,  and  the  joy  of 
eventful  living.  Some  men  cannot  endure  an  hour 
of  calm  at  sea.  I remember  a poor  Malay  cook  on 
board  a Liverpool  packet,  who,  when  the  wind 
blew  a gale,  could  not  contain  his  joy ; 66  Blow ! ” 
he  cried,  “ me  do  tell  you,  blow ! ” Their  friends 
and  governors  must  see  that  some  vent  for  their 
explosive  complexion  is  provided.  The  roisters 
who  are  destined  for  infamy  at  home,  if  sent  to 
Mexico  will  “ cover  you  with  glory,”  and  come 
back  heroes  and  generals.  There  are  Oregons, 
Calif ornias,  and  Exploring  Expeditions  enough 
appertaining  to  America  to  find  them  in  files  to 


70 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


gnaw  and  in  crocodiles  to  eat.  The  young  English 
are  fine  animals,  full  of  blood,  and  when  they  have 
no  wars  to  breathe  their  riotous  valors  in,  they 
seek  for  travels  as  dangerous  as  war,  diving  into 
Maelstroms ; swimming  Hellesponts ; wading  up  the 
snowy  Himmaleh;  hunting  lion,  rhinoceros,  ele- 
phant, in  South  Africa ; gypsying  with  Borrow  in 
Spain  and  Algiers  ; riding  alligators  in  South 
America  with  Waterton ; utilizing  Bedouin,  Sheik, 
and  Pacha,  with  Layard ; yachting  among  the  ice- 
bergs of  Lancaster  Sound ; peeping  into  craters  on 
the  equator ; or  running  on  the  creases  of  Malays 
in  Borneo. 

The  excess  of  virility  has  the  same  importance 
in  general  history  as  in  private  and  industrial  life. 
Strong  race  or  strong  individual  rests  at  last  on 
natural  forces,  which  are  best  in  the  savage,  who, 
like  the  beasts  around  him,  is  still  in  reception  of 
the  milk  from  the  teats  of  Nature.  Cut  off  the 
connection  between  any  of  our  works  and  this  abor- 
iginal source,  and  the  work  is  shallow.  The  peo- 
ple lean  on  this,  and  the  mob  is  not  quite  so  bad 
an  argument  as  we  sometimes  say,  for  it  has  this 
good  side.  “ March  without  the  people,”  said  a 
French  deputy  from  the  tribune,  “ and  you  march 
into  night : their  instincts  are  a finger-pointing  of 
Providence,  always  turned  toward  real  benefit. 
But  when  you  espouse  an  Orleans  party,  or  a Bour 


POWER. 


71 


bon  or  a Montalembert  party,  or  any  other  but  an 
organic  party,  though  you  mean  well,  you  have  a 
personality  instead  of  a principle,  which  will  inevit- 
ably drag  you  into  a corner.” 

The  best  anecdotes  of  this  force  are  to  be  had 
from  savage  life,  in  explorers,  soldiers,  and  bucca- 
neers. But  who  cares  for  fallings-out  of  assassins 
and  fights  of  bears  or  grindings  of  icebergs  ? Phys- 
ical force  has  no  value  where  there  is  nothing  else. 
Snow  in  snow-banks,  fire  in  volcanoes  and  solfata- 
ras  is  cheap.  The  luxury  of  ice  is  in  tropical  coun- 
tries and  midsummer  days.  The  luxury  of  fire  is 
to  have  a little  on  our  hearth ; and  of  electricity, 
not  volleys  of  the  charged  cloud,  but  the  manage- 
able stream  on  the  battery-wires.  So  of  spirit,  or 
energy ; the  rests  or  remains  of  it  in  the  civil  and 
moral  man  are  worth  all  the  cannibals  in  the  Pa- 
cific. 

In  history  the  great  moment  is  when  the  savage 
is  just  ceasing  to  be  a savage,  with  all  his  hairy 
Pelasgic  strength  directed  on  his  opening  sense  of 
beauty  : — and  you  have  Pericles  and  Phidias,  not 
yet  passed  over  into  the  Corinthian  civility. 
Everything  good  in  nature  and  the  world  is  in 
that  moment  of  transition,  when  the  swarthy  juices 
still  flow  plentifully  from  nature,  but  their  astrin- 
gency  or  acridity  is  got  out  by  ethics  and  human- 
ity. 


72 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


The  triumphs  of  peace  have  been  in  some  prox- 
imity to  war.  Whilst  the  hand  was  still  familiar 
with  the  sword-hilt,  whilst  the  habits  of  the  camp 
were  still  visible  in  the  port  and  complexion  of  the 
gentleman,  his  intellectual  power  culminated : the 
compression  and  tension  of  these  stern  conditions 
is  a training  for  the  finest  and  softest  arts,  and 
can  rarely  be  compensated  in  tranquil  times,  except 
by  some  analogous  vigor  drawn  from  occupations 
as  hardy  as  war. 

W e say  that  success  is  constitutional ; depends 
on  a plus  condition  of  mind  and  body,  on  power  of 
work,  on  courage ; that  it  is  of  main  efficacy  in  car- 
rying on  the  world,  and  though  rarely  found  in  the 
right  state  for  an  article  of  commerce,  but  oftener 
in  the  supersaturate  or  excess  which  makes  it  dan- 
gerous and  destructive,  — yet  it  cannot  be  spared, 
and  must  be  had  in  that  form,  and  absorbents  pro- 
vided to  take  off  its  edge. 

The  affirmative  class  monopolize  the  homage  of 
mankind.  They  originate  and  execute  all  the 
great  feats.  What  a force  was  coiled  up  in  the 
skull  of  Napoleon  ! Of  the  sixty  thousand  men 
making  his  army  at  Eylau,  it  seems  some  thirty 
thousand  were  thieves  and  burglars.  The  men 
whom  in  peaceful  communities  we  hold  if  we  can 
with  iron  at  their  legs,  in  prisons,  under  the  mus- 
kets of  sentinels,  — this  man  dealt  with  hand  to 


POWER.  73 

hand,  dragged  them  to  their  duty,  and  won  his  vic- 
tories by  their  bayonets. 

This  aboriginal  might  gives  a surprising  pleasure 
when  it  appears  under  conditions  of  supreme  refine- 
ment, as  in  the  proficients  in  high  art.  When  Mi- 
chel Angelo  was  forced  to  paint  the  Sistine  Chapel 
in  fresco,  of  which  art  he  knew  nothing,  he  went 
down  into  the  Pope’s  gardens  behind  the  Vatican, 
and  with  a shovel  dug  out  ochres,  red  and  yellow, 
mixed  them  with  glue  and  water  with  his  own 
hands,  and  having  after  many  trials  at  last  suited 
himself,  climbed  his  ladders,  and  painted  away, 
week  after  week,  month  after  month,  the  sibyls 
and  prophets.  He  surpassed  his  successors  in 
rough  vigor,  as  much  as  in  purity  of  intellect  and 
refinement.  He  was  not  crushed  by  his  one  picture 
left  unfinished  at  last.  Michel  was  wont  to  draw 
his  figures  first  in  skeleton,  then  to  clothe  them 
with  flesh,  and  lastly  to  drape  them.  “ Ah  ! ” said 
a brave  painter  to  me,  thinking  on  these  things,  “ if 
a man  has  failed,  you  will  find  he  has  dreamed  in- 
stead of  working.  There  is  no  way  to  success  in 
our  art  but  to  take  off  your  coat,  grind  paint,  and 
work  like  a digger  on  the  railroad,  all  day  and 
every  day.” 

Success  goes  thus  invariably  with  a certain  plus 
or  positive  power : an  ounce  of  power  must  balance 
an  ounce  of  weight.  And  though  a man  cannot 


74  CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 

return  into  his  mother’s  womb  and  be  born  with 
new  amounts  of  vivacity,  yet  there  are  two  econo- 
mies which  are  the  best  succedanea  which  the  case 
admits.  The  first  is  the  stopping  off  decisively  our 
miscellaneous  activity  and  concentrating  our  force 
on  one  or  a few  points ; as  the  gardener,  by  severe 
pruning,  forces  the  sap  of  the  tree  into  one  or  two 
vigorous  limbs,  instead  of  suffering  it  to  spindle 
into  a sheaf  of  twigs. 

“ Enlarge  not  thy  destiny,  ” said  the  oracle, 
“ endeavor  not  to  do  more  than  is  given  thee  in 
charge.”  The  one  prudence  in  life  is  concentra- 
tion ; the  one  evil  is  dissipation  ; and  it  makes  no 
difference  whether  our  dissipations  are  coarse  or 
fine  ; property  and  its  cares,  friends  and  a social 
habit,  or  politics,  or  music,  or  feasting.  Every 
thing  is  good  which  takes  away  one  plaything  and 
delusion  more  and  drives  us  home  to  add  one  stroke 
of  faithful  work.  Friends,  books,  pictures,  lower 
duties,  talents,  flatteries,  hopes,  — all  are  distrac- 
tions which  cause  oscillations  in  our  giddy  balloon, 
and  make  a good  poise  and  a straight  course  impos- 
sible. You  must  elect  your  work  ; you  shall  take 
what  your  brain  can,  and  drop  all  the  rest.  Only 
so  can  that  amount  of  vital  force  accumulate  which 
can  make  the  step  from  knowing  to  doing.  No 
matter  how  much  faculty  of  idle  seeing  a man  has, 
the  step  from  knowing  to  doing  is  rarely  taken. 


POWER. 


75 


’T  is  a step  out  of  a chalk  circle  of  imbecility  into 
fruitfulness.  Many  an  artist,  lacking  this,  lacks 
all ; he  sees  the  masculine  Angelo  or  Cellini  with 
despair.  He  too  is  up  to  Nature  and  the  First 
Cause  in  his  thought.  But  the  spasm  to  collect 
and  swing  his  whole  being  into  one  act,  he  has  not. 
The  poet  Campbell  said  that  “ a man  accustomed 
to  work,  was  equal  to  any  achievement  he  resolved 
on,  and  that  for  himself,  necessity,  not  inspiration 
was  the  prompter  of  his  muse.” 

Concentration  is  the  secret  of  strength  in  poli- 
tics, in  war,  in  trade,  in  short  in  all  management 
of  human  affairs.  One  of  the  high  anecdotes  of 
the  world  is  the  reply  of  Newton  to  the  inquiry 
“how  he  had  been  able  to  achieve  his  discoveries?” 
— “ By  always  intending  my  mind.”  Or  if  you 
will  have  a text  from  politics,  take  this  from  Plu- 
tarch ; “ There  was,  in  the  whole  city,  but  one 
street  in  which  Pericles  was  ever  seen,  the  street 
which  led  to  the  market-place  and  the  council 
house.  He  declined  all  invitations  to  banquets, 
and  all  gay  assemblies  and  company.  During  the 
whole  period  of  his  administration  he  never  dined 
at  the  table  of  a friend.”  Or  if  we  seek  an  exam- 
ple from  trade,  — “I  hope,”  said  a good  man  to 
Rothschild,  “your  children  are  not  too  fond  of 
money  and  business  ; I am  sure  you  would  not 
wish  that.”  — “I  am  sure  I should  wish  that ; I 


76 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


wish  them  to  give  mind,  soul,  heart,  and  body  to 
business,  — that  is  the  way  to  be  happy.  It  re- 
quires a great  deal  of  boldness  and  a great  deal  of 
caution  to ’make  a great  fortune,  and  when  you 
have  got  it,  it  requires  ten  times  as  much  wit  to 
keep  it.  If  I were  to  listen  to  all  the  projects  pro- 
posed to  me,  I should  ruin  myself  very  soon.  Stick 
to  one  business,  young  man.  Stick  to  your  brew- 
ery (he  said  this  to  young  Buxton),  and  you  will 
be  the  great  brewer  of  London.  Be  brewer,  and 
banker,  and  merchant,  and  manufacturer,  and  you 
will  soon  be  in  the  Gazette.” 

Many  men  are  knowing,  many  are  apprehensive 
and  tenacious,  but  they  do  not  rush  to  a decision. 
But  in  our  flowing  affairs  a decision  must  be  made, 
— the  best,  if  you  can,  but  any  is  better  than  none. 
There  are  twenty  ways  of  going  to  a point,  and  one 
is  the  shortest ; but  set  out  at  once  on  one.  A 
man  who  has  that  presence  of  mind  which  can 
bring  to  him  on  the  instant  all  he  knows,  is  worth 
for  action  a dozen  men  who  know  as  much  but  can 
only  bring  it  to  light  slowly.  The  good  Speaker 
in  the  House  is  not  the  man  who  knows  the  theory 
of  parliamentary  tactics,  but  the  man  who  decides 
off-hand.  The  good  judge  is  not  he  who  does  hair- 
splitting justice  to  every  allegation,  but  who,  aim- 
ing at  substantial  justice,  rules  something  intelligi- 
ble for  the  guidance  of  suitors.  The  good  lawyer 


POWER. 


77 


is  not  tlie  man  who  has  an  eye  to  every  side  and 
angle  of  contingency,  and  qualifies  all  his  qualifi- 
cations, but  who  throws  himself  on  your  part  so 
heartily  that  he  can  get  you  out  of  a scrape.  Dr. 
J ohnson  said,  in  one  of  his  flowing  sentences,  “ Mis- 
erable beyond  all  names  of  wretchedness  is  that 
unhappy  pair,  who  are  doomed  to  reduce  before- 
hand to  the  principles  of  abstract  reason  all  the  de- 
tails of  each  domestic  day.  There  are  cases  where 
little  can  be  said,  and  much  must  be  done.” 

The  second  substitute  for  temperament  is  drill, 
the  power  of  use  and  routine.  The  hack  is  a better 
roadster  than  the  Arab  barb.  In  chemistry,  the 
galvanic  stream,  slow  but  continuous,  is  equal  in 
power  to  the  electric  spark,  and  is,  in  our  arts, 
a better  agent.  So  in  human  action,  against  the 
spasm  of  energy  we  offset  the  continuity  of  drill. 
We  spread  the  same  amount  of  force  over  much 
time,  instead  of  condensing  it  into  a moment.  ’T  is 
the  same  ounce  of  gold  here  in  a ball,  and  there  in 
a leaf.  At  West  Point,  Col.  Buford,  the  chief  en- 
gineer, pounded  with  a hammer  on  the  trunnions  of 
a cannon  until  he  broke  them  off.  He  fired  a piece 
of  ordnance  some  hundred  times  in  swift  succession, 
until  it  burst.  Now  which  stroke  broke  the  trun- 
nion ? Every  stroke.  Which  blast  burst  the  piece  ? 
Every  blast.  “Diligence  passe  sens”  Henry 
VIII.  was  wont  to  say,  or  great  is  drill.  John 


78 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


Kemble  said  that  the  worst  provincial  company 
of  actors  would  go  through  a play  better  than  the 
best  amateur  company.  Basil  Hall  likes  to  show 
that  the  worst  regular  troops  will  beat  the  best 
volunteers.  Practice  is  nine  tenths.  A course  of 
mobs  is  good  practice  for  orators.  All  the  great 
speakers  were  bad  speakers  at  first.  Stumping  it 
through  England  for  seven  years  made  Cobden  a 
consummate  debater.  Stumping  it  through  New 
England  for  twice  seven  trained  Wendell  Phillips. 
The  way  to  learn  German  is  to  read  the  same  dozen 
pages  over  and  over  a hundred  times,  till  you  know 
every  word  and  particle  in  them  and  can  pro- 
nounce and  repeat  them  by  heart.  No  genius  can 
recite  a ballad  at  first  reading  so  well  as  medioc- 
rity can  at  the  fifteenth  or  twentieth  reading.  The 
rule  for  hospitality  and  Irish  6 help  ’ is  to  have  the 
same  dinner  every  day  throughout  the  year.  At 
last,  Mrs.  O’Shaughnessy  learns  to  cook  it  to  a 
nicety,  the  host  learns  to  carve  it,  and  the  guests 
are  well  served.  A humorous  friend  of  mine  thinks 
that  the  reason  why  Nature  is  so  perfect  in  her  art, 
and  gets  up  such  inconceivably  fine  sunsets,  is  that 
she  has  learned  how,  at  last,  by  dint  of  doing  the 
same  thing  so  very  often.  Cannot  one  converse 
better  on  a topic  on  which  he  has  experience,  than 
on  one  which  is  new  ? Men  whose  opinion  is  val- 
ued on  ’Change  are  only  such  as  have  a special  ex- 


POWER . 


79 


perience,  and  off  that  ground  their  opinion  is  not 
valuable.  “More  are  made  good  by  exercitation 
than  by  nature,”  said  Democritus.  The  friction  in 
nature  is  so  enormous  that  we  cannot  spare  any 
power.  It  is  not  question  to  express  our  thought, 
to  elect  our  way,  but  to  overcome  resistances  of  the 
medium  and  material  in  everything  we  do.  Hence 
the  use  of  drill,  and  the  worthlessness  of  amateurs 
to  cope  with  practitioners.  Six  hours  every  day  at 
the  piano,  only  to  give  facility  of  touch  ; six  hours 
a day  at  painting,  only  to  give  command  of  the 
odious  materials,  oil,  ochres  and  brushes.  The 
masters  say  that  they  know  a master  in  music,  only 
by  seeing  the  pose  of  the  hands  on  the  keys ; — so 
difficult  and  vital  an  act  is  the  command  of  the  in- 
strument. To  have  learned  the  use  of  the  tools,  by 
thousands  of  manipulations  ; to  have  learned  the 
arts  of  reckoning,  by  endless  adding  and  dividing, 
is  the  power  of  the  mechanic  and  the  clerk. 

I remarked  in  England,  in  confirmation  of  a fre- 
quent experience  at  home,  that  in  literary  circles, 
the  men  of  trust  and  consideration,  bookmakers, 
editors,  university  deans  and  professors,  bishops 
too,  were  by  no  means  men  of  the  largest  literary 
talent,  but  usually  of  a low  and  ordinary  intel- 
lectuality, with  a sort  of  mercantile  activity  and 
working  talent.  Indifferent  hacks  and  mediocri- 
ties tower,  by  pushing  their  forces  to  a lucrative 


80 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


point  or  by  working  power,  over  multitudes  of  su- 
perior men,  in  Old  as  in  New  England. 

I have  not  forgotten  that  there  are  sublime  con- 
siderations which  limit  the  value  of  talent  and  su- 
perficial success.  We  can  easily  overpraise  the 
vulgar  hero.  There  are  sources  on  which  we  have 
not  drawn.  I know  what  I abstain  from.  I ad- 
journ what  I have  to  say  on  this  topic  to  the  chap- 
ters on  Culture  and  Worship.  But  this  force  or 
spirit,  being  the  means  relied  on  by  Nature  for 
bringing  the  work  of  the  day  about,  — as  far  as  we 
attach  importance  to  household  life  and  the  prizes 
of  the  world,  we  must  respect  that.  And  I hold 
that  an  economy  may  be  applied  to  it ; it  is  as  much 
a subject  of  exact  law  and  arithmetic  as  fluids  and 
gases  are ; it  may  be  husbanded  or  wasted ; every 
man  is  efficient  only  as  he  is  a container  or  vessel 
of  this  force,  and  never  was  any  signal  act  or 
achievement  in  history  but  by  this  expenditure. 
This  is  not  gold,  but  the  gold-maker ; not  the  fame, 
but  the  exploit. 

If  these  forces  and  this  husbandry  are  within 
reach  of  our  will,  and  the  laws  of  them  can  be  read, 
we  infer  that  all  success  and  all  conceivable  bene- 
fit for  man,  is  also,  first  or  last,  within  his  reach, 
and  has  its  own  sublime  economies  by  which  it  may 
be  attained.  The  world  is  mathematical,  and  has 
no  casualty  in  all  its  vast  and  flowing  curve.  Suo 


POWER. 


81 


cess  has  no  more  eccentricity  than  the  gingham 
and  muslin  we  weave  in  our  mills.  I know  no 
more  affecting  lesson  to  our  busy,  plotting  New 
England  brains,  than  to  go  into  one  of  the  facto- 
ries with  which  we  have  lined  all  the  watercourses 
in  the  States.  A man  hardly  knows  how  much  he 
is  a machine  until  he  begins  to  make  telegraph, 
loom,  press,  and  locomotive,  in  his  own  image. 
But  in  these  he  is  forced  to  leave  out  his  follies 
and  hindrances,  so  that  when  we  go  to  the  mill,  the 
machine  is  more  moral  than  we.  Let  a man  dare 
go  to  a loom  and  see  if  he  be  equal  to  it.  Let 
machine  confront  machine,  and  see  how  they  come 
out.  The  world-mill  is  more  complex  than  the  cal- 
ico-mill, and  the  architect  stooped  less.  In  the 
gingham-mill,  a broken  thread  or  a shred  spoils  the 
web  through  a piece  of  a hundred  yards,  and  is 
traced  back  to  the  girl  that  wove  it,  and  lessens 
her  wages.  The  stockholder,  on  being  shown  this, 
rubs  his  hands  with  delight.  Are  you  so  cunning, 
Mr.  Profitloss,  and  do  you  expect  to  swindle  your 
master  and  employer,  in  the  web  you  weave  ? A 
day  is  a more  magnificent  cloth  than  any  muslin, 
the  mechanism  that  makes  it  is  infinitely  cun- 
ninger,  and  you  shall  not  conceal  the  sleezy,  fraud- 
ulent, rotten  hours  you  have  slipped  into  the  piece ; 
nor  fear  that  any  honest  thread,  or  straighter  steel, 
or  more  inflexible  shaft,  will  not  testify  in  the  web. 

VOL.  VI.  6 


f 


III. 


WEALTH. 


Who  shall  tell  what  did  befall, 

Far  away  in  time,  when  once, 

Over  the  lifeless  ball, 

Hung  idle  stars  and  suns  ? 

What  god  the  element  obeyed  ? 

Wings  of  what  wind  the  lichen  bore, 
Wafting  the  puny  seeds  of  power, 

Which,  lodged  in  rock,  the  rock  abrade  ? 
And  well  the  primal  pioneer 
Knew  the  strong  task  to  it  assigned, 
Patient  through  Heaven’s  enormous  year 
To  build  in  matter  home  for  mind. 

From  air  the  creeping  centuries  drew 
The  matted  thicket  low  and  wide, 

This  must  the  leaves  of  ages  strew 
The  granite  slab  to  clothe  and  hide, 

Ere  wheat  can  wave  its  golden  pride. 
What  smiths,  and  in  what  furnace,  rolled 
(In  dizzy  aeons  dim  and  mute 
The  reeling  brain  can  ill  compute) 
Copper  and  iron,  lead,  and  gold  ? 

What  oldest  star  the  fame  can  save 


84 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


Of  races  perishing  to  pave 
The  planet  with  a floor  of  lime  ? 

Dust  is  their  pyramid  and  mole : 

Who  saw  what  ferns  and  palms  were  pressed 
Under  the  tumbling  mountain’s  breast, 

In  the  safe  herbal  of  the  coal  ? 

But  when  the  quarried  means  were  piled, 

All  is  waste  and  worthless,  till 
Arrives  the  wise  selecting  will, 

And,  out  of  slime  and  chaos,  Wit 
Draws  the  threads  of  fair  and  fit. 

Then  temples  rose,  and  towns,  and  marts, 

The  shop  of  toil,  the  hall  of  arts ; 

Then  flew  the  sail  across  the  seas 
To  feed  the  North  from  tropic  trees ; 

The  storm-wind  wove,  the  torrent  span, 

Where  they  were  bid  the  rivers  ran  ; 

IS  .w  slaves  fulfilled  the  poet’s  dream, 

Galvanic  wire,  strong-shouldered  steam. 

Then  docks  were  built,  and  crops  were  stored, 
And  ingots  added  to  the  hoard. 

But,  though  light-headed  man  forget, 
Remembering  Matter  pays  her  debt : 

Still,  through  her  motes  and  masses,  draw 
Electric  thrills  and  ties  of  Law, 

Which  bind  the  strengths  of  Nature  wild 
To  the  conscience  of  a child. 


WEALTH. 


As  soon  as  a stranger  is  introduced  into  any 
company,  one  of  the  first  questions  which  all  wish 
to  have  answered,  is,  How  does  that  man  get  his 
living?  And  with  reason.  He  is  no  whole  man 
until  he  knows  how  to  earn  a blameless  livelihood. 
Society  is  barbarous  until  every  industrious  man 
can  get  his  living  without  dishonest  customs. 

Every  man  is  a consumer,  and  ought  to  be  a 
producer.  He  fails  to  make  his  place  good  in  the 
world  unless  he  not  only  pays  his  debt  but  also 
adds  something  to  the  common  wealth.  Nor  can  he 
do  justice  to  his  genius  without  making  some  larger 
demand  on  the  world  than  a bare  subsistence.  He 
is  by  constitution  expensive,  and  needs  to  be  rich. 

Wealth  has  its  source  in  applications  of  the  mind 
to  nature,  from  the  rudest  strokes  of  spade  and  axe 
up  to  the  last  secrets  of  art.  Intimate  ties  subsist 
between  thought  and  all  production;  because  a 
better  order  is  equivalent  to  vast  amounts  of  brute 
labor.  The  forces  and  the  resistances  are  Nature’s, 
but  the  mind  acts  in  bringing  things  from  where 
they  abound  to  where  they  are  wanted ; in  wise 
combining ; in  directing  the  practice  of  the  useful 


86 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


arts,  and  in  the  creation  of  finer  values  by  fine  art, 
by  eloquence,  by  song,  or  the  reproductions  of  mem- 
ory. Wealth  is  in  applications  of  mind  to  nature  ; 
and  the  art  of  getting  rich  consists  not  in  industry, 
much  less  in  saving,  but  in  a better  order,  in  time- 
liness, in  being  at  the  right  spot.  One  man  has 
stronger  arms  or  longer  legs ; another  sees  by  the 
course  of  streams  and  growth  of  markets  where 
land  will  be  wanted,  makes  a clearing  to  the  river, 
goes  to  sleep  and  wakes  up  rich.  Steam  is  no 
stronger  now  than  it  was  a hundred  years  ago ; 
but  is  put  to  better  use.  A clever  fellow  was 
acquainted  with  the  expansive  force  of  steam ; he 
also  saw  the  wealth  of  wheat  and  grass  rotting 
in  Michigan.  Then  he  cunningly  screws  on  the 
steam-pipe  to  the  wheat-crop.  Puff  now,  O Steam ! 
The  steam  puffs  and  expands  as  before,  but  this 
time  it  is  dragging  all  Michigan  at  its  back  to 
hungry  New  York  and  hungry  England.  Coal  lay 
in  ledges  under  the  ground  since  the  Flood,  until  a 
laborer  with  pick  and  windlass  brings  it  to  the  sur- 
face. We  may  well  call  it  black  diamonds.  Every 
basket  is  power  and  civilization.  For  coal  is  a port- 
able climate.  It  carries  the  heat  of  the  tropics  to 
Labrador  and  the  polar  circle  ; and  it  is  the  means 
of  transporting  itself  whithersoever  it  is  wanted. 
Watt  and  Stephenson  whispered  in  the  ear  of  man- 
kind their  secret,  that  a half -ounce  of  coal  will 


WEALTH . 


87 


drcnv  two  tons  a mile , and  coal  carries  coal,  by  rail 
and  by  boat,  to  make  Canada  as  warm  as  Calcutta ; 
and  with  its  comfort  brings  its  industrial  power. 

When  the  farmer’s  peaches  are  taken  from  un- 
der the  tree  and  carried  into  town,  they  have  a new 
look  and  a hundredfold  value  over  the  fruit  which 
grew  on  the  same  bough  and  lies  fulsomely  on  the 
ground.  The  craft  of  the  merchant  is  this  bring- 
ing a thing  from  where  it  abounds  to  where  it  is 
costly. 

W ealth  begins  in  a tight  roof  that  keeps  the  rain 
and  wind  out ; in  a good  pump  that  yields  you 
plenty  of  sweet  water ; in  two  suits  of  clothes,  so  to 
change  your  dress  when  you  are  wet ; in  dry  sticks 
to  burn,  in  a good  double-wick  lamp,  and  three 
meals  ; in  a horse  or  a locomotive  to  cross  the  land, 
in  a boat  to  cross  the  sea ; in  tools  to  work  with, 
in  books  to  read  ; and  so  in  giving  on  all  sides  by 
tools  and  auxiliaries  the  greatest  possible  exten- 
sion to  our  powers ; as  if  it  added  feet  and  hands 
and  eyes  and  blood,  length  to  the  day,  and  knowl- 
edge and  good-will. 

Wealth  begins  with  these  articles  of  necessity. 
And  here  we  must  recite  the  iron  law  which  Na- 
ture thunders  in  these  northern  climates.  First 
she  requires  that  each  man  should  feed  himself.  If 
happily  his  fathers  have  left  him  no  inheritance,  he 
must  go  to  work,  and  by  making  his  wants  less  or 


88 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


his  gains  more,  he  must  draw  himself  out  of  that 
state  of  pain  and  insult  in  which  she  forces  the 
beggar  to  lie.  She  gives  him  no  rest  until  this  is 
done ; she  starves,  taunts,  and  torments  him,  takes 
away  warmth,  laughter,  sleep,  friends,  and  day- 
light, until  he  has  fought  his  way  to  his  own  loaf. 
Then,  less  peremptorily  but  still  with  sting  enough, 
she  urges  him  to  the  acquisition  of  such  things  as 
belong  to  him.  Every  warehouse  and  shop-win- 
dow, every  fruit-tree,  every  thought  of  every  hour 
opens  a new  want  to  him  which  it  concerns  his 
power  and  dignity  to  gratify.  It  is  of  no  use  to 
argue  the  wants  down : the  philosophers  have  laid 
the  greatness  of  man  in  making  his  wants  few, 
but  will  a man  content  himself  with  a hut  and  a 
handful  of  dried  pease  ? He  is  born  to  be  rich. 
He  is  thoroughly  related ; and  is  tempted  out  by 
his  appetites  and  fancies  to  the  conquest  of  this 
and  that  piece  of  nature,  until  he  finds  his  well- 
being in  the  use  of  his  planet,  and  of  more  planets 
than  his  own.  Wealth  requires,  besides  the  crust 
of  bread  and  the  roof,  — the  freedom  of  the  city, 
the  freedom  of  the  earth,  travelling,  machinery,  the 
benefits  of  science,  music  and  fine  arts,  the  best 
culture  and  the  best  company.  He  is  the  rich  man 
who  can  avail  himself  of  all  men’s  faculties.  He 
is  the  richest  man  who  knows  how  to  draw  a bene- 
fit from  the  labors  of  the  greatest  number  of  men, 


WEALTH. 


89 


of  men  in  distant  countries  and  in  past  times.  The 
same  correspondence  that  is  between  thirst  in  the 
stomach  and  water  in  the  spring,  exists  between 
the  whole  of  man  and  the  whole  of  nature.  The 
elements  offer  their  service  to  him.  The  sea,  wash- 
ing the  equator  and  the  poles,  offers  its  perilous 
aid  and  the  power  and  empire  that  follow  it,  — 
day  by  day  to  his  craft  and  audacity.  “ Beware  of 
me,”  it  says,  “but  if  you  can  hold  me,  I am  the 
key  to  all  the  lands.”  Fire  offers,  on  its  side, 
an  equal  power.  Fire,  steam,  lightning,  gravity, 
ledges  of  rock,  mines  of  iron,  lead,  quicksilver,  tin 
and  gold ; forests  of  all  woods ; fruits  of  all  cli- 
mates ; animals  of  all  habits ; the  powers  of  tillage ; 
the  fabrics  of  his  chemic  laboratory ; the  webs  of 
his  loom ; the  masculine  draught  of  his  locomotive, 
the  talismans  of  the  machine-shop;  all  grand  and 
subtile  things,  minerals,  gases,  ethers,  passions, 
war,  trade,  government,  — are  his  natural  play- 
mates, and  according  to  the  excellence  of  the  ma- 
chinery in  each  human  being  is  his  attraction  for 
the  instruments  he  is  to  employ.  The  world  is  his 
tool-chest,  and  he  is  successful,  or  his  education  is 
carried  on  just  so  far,  as  is  the  marriage  of  his  fac- 
ulties with  nature,  or  the  degree  in  which  he  takes 
up  things  into  himself. 

The  strong  race  is  strong  on  these  terms.  The 
Saxons  are  the  merchants  of  the  world ; now,  for 


90 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


a thousand  years,  the  leading  race,  and  by  nothing 
more  than  their  quality  of  personal  independence, 
and  in  its  special  modification,  pecuniary  indepen- 
dence. No  reliance  for  bread  and  games  on  the 
government ; no  clanship,  no  patriarchal  style  of 
living  by  the  revenues  of  a chief,  no  marrying-on, 
no  system  of  clientship  suits  them ; but  every  man 
must  pay  his  scot.  The  English  are  prosperous 
and  peaceable,  with  their  habit  of  considering  that 
every  man  must  take  care  of  himself  and  has  him- 
self to  thank  if  he  do  not  maintain  and  improve 
his  position  in  society. 

The  subject  of  economy  mixes  itself  with  morals, 
inasmuch  as  it  is  a peremptory  point  of  virtue  that 
a man’s  independence  be  secured.  Poverty  demor- 
alizes. A man  in  debt  is  so  far  a slave,  and  Wall 
street  thinks  it  easy  for  a millionaire  to  be  a man 
of  his  word,  a man  of  honor,  but  that  in  failing 
circumstances  no  man  can  be  relied  on  to  keep  his 
integrity.  And  when  one  observes  in  the  hotels 
and  palaces  of  our  Atlantic  capitals  the  habit  of 
expense,  the  riot  of  the  senses,  the  absence  of 
bonds,  clanship,  fellow-feeling  of  any  kind,  — he 
feels  that  when  a man  or  a woman  is  driven  to  the 
wall,  the  chances  of  integrity  are  frightfully  dimin- 
ished ; as  if  virtue  were  coming  to  be  a luxury 
which  few  could  afford,  or,  as  Burke  said,  “ at  a 
market  almost  too  high  for  humanity.”  He  may 


WEALTH . 


91 


fix  his  inventory  of  necessities  and  of  enjoyments 
on  what  scale  he  pleases,  but  if  he  wishes  the 
power  and  privilege  of  thought,  the  chalking  out 
his  own  career  and  having  society  on  his  own 
terms,  he  must  bring  his  wants  within  his  proper 
power  to  satisfy. 

The  manly  part  is  to  do  with  might  and  main 
what  you  can  do.  The  world  is  full  of  fops  who 
never  did  anything  and  who  have  persuaded  beau- 
ties and  men  of  genius  to  wear  their  fop  livery ; 
and  these  will  deliver  the  fop  opinion,  that  it  is 
not  respectable  to  be  seen  earning  a living ; that  it 
is  much  more  respectable  to  spend  without  earn- 
ing ; and  this  doctrine  of  the  snake  will  come  also 
from  the  elect  sons  of  light ; for  wise  men  are  not 
wise  at  all  hours,  and  will  speak  five  times  from 
their  taste  or  their  humor,  to  once  from  their  rea- 
son. The  brave  workman,  who  might  betray  his 
feeling  of  it  in  his  manners  if  he  do  not  succumb 
in  his  practice,  must  replace  the  grace  or  ele- 
gance forfeited,  by  the  merit  of  the  work  done. 
No  matter  whether  he  makes  shoes,  or  statues,  or 
laws.  It  is  the  privilege  of  any  human  work 
which  is  well  done  to  invest  the  doer  with  a cer- 
tain haughtiness.  He  can  well  afford  not  to  con- 
ciliate, whose  faithful  work  will  answer  for  him. 
The  mechanic  at  his  bench  carries  a quiet  heart 
and  assured  manners,  and  deals  on  even  terms 


92 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


with  men  of  any  condition.  The  artist  has  made 
his  picture  so  true  that  it  disconcerts  criticism. 
The  statue  is  so  beautiful  that  it  contracts  no 
stain  from  the  market,  but  makes  the  market  a 
silent  gallery  for  itself.  The  case  of  the  young 
lawyer  was  pitiful  to  disgust,  — a paltry  matter 
of  buttons  or  tweezer-cases  ; but  the  determined 
youth  saw  in  it  an  aperture  to  insert  his  dangerous 
wedges,  made  the  insignificance  of  the  thing  for- 
gotten, and  gave  fame  by  his  sense  and  energy  to 
the  name  and  affairs  of  the  Tittleton  snuff-box 
factory. 

Society  in  large  towns  is  babyish,  and  wealth  is 
made  a toy.  The  life  of  pleasure  is  so  ostenta- 
tious that  a shallow  observer  must  believe  that 
this  is  the  agreed  best  use  of  wealth,  and,  whatever 
is  pretended,  it  ends  in  cosseting.  But  if  this 
were  the  main  use  of  surplus  capital,  it  would 
bring  us  to  barricades,  burned  towns  and  toma- 
hawks, presently.  Men  of  sense  esteem  wealth  to 
be  the  assimilation  of  nature  to  themselves,  the 
converting  of  the  sap  and  juices  of  the  planet  to 
the  incarnation  and  nutriment  of  their  design. 
Power  is  what  they  want,  not  candy ; — power  to 
execute  their  design,  power  to  give  legs  and  feet, 
form  and  actuality  to  their  thought ; which,  to  a 
clear-sighted  man,  appears  the  end  for  which  the 
Universe  exists,  and  all  its  resources  might  be  well 


WEALTH. 


98 


applied.  Columbus  thinks  that  the  sphere  is  a 
problem  for  practical  navigation  as  well  as  for 
closet  geometry,  and  looks  on  all  kings  and  peo- 
ples as  cowardly  landsmen  until  they  dare  fit  him 
out.  Few  men  on  the  planet  have  more  truly 
belonged  to  it.  But  he  was  forced  to  leave  much 
of  his  map  blank.  His  successors  inherited  his 
map,  and  inherited  his  fury  to  complete  it. 

So  the  men  of  the  mine,  telegraph,  mill,  map 
and  survey,  — the  monomaniacs  who  talk  up  their 
project  in  marts  and  offices  and  entreat  men  to 
subscribe  : — how  did  our  factories  get  built  ? how 
did  North  America  get  netted  with  iron  rails, 
except  by  the  importunity  of  these  orators  who 
dragged  all  the  prudent  men  in?  Is  party  the 
madness  of  many  for  the  gain  of  a few  ? This 
speculative  genius  is  the  madness  of  a few  for  the 
gain  of  the  world.  The  projectors  are  sacrificed, 
but  the  public  is  the  gainer.  Each  of  these  ideal- 
ists, working  after  his  thought,  would  make  it 
tyrannical,  if  he  could.  He  is  met  and  antagonized 
by  other  speculators  as  hot  as  he.  The  equilib- 
rium is  preserved  by  these  counteractions,  as  one 
tree  keeps  down  another  in  the  forest,  that  it  may 
not  absorb  all  the  sap  in  the  ground.  And  the 
supply  in  nature  of  railroad-presidents,  copper- 
miners,  grand-junctioners,  smoke-burners,  fire-an- 
nihilators,  &c.,  is  limited  by  the  same  law  which 


94 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


keeps  the  proportion  in  the  supply  of  carbon,  of 
alum,  and  of  hydrogen. 

To  be  rich  is  to  have  a ticket  of  admission  to 
the  master-works  and  chief  men  of  each  race.  It 
is  to  have  the  sea,  by  voyaging  ; to  visit  the  moun- 
tains, Niagara,  the  Nile,  the  desert,  Rome,  Paris, 
Constantinople ; to  see  galleries,  libraries,  arse- 
nals, manufactories.  The  reader  of  Humboldt’s 
44  Cosmos  ” follows  the  marches  of  a man  whose 
eyes,  ears,  and  mind  are  armed  by  all  the  science, 
arts,  and  implements  which  mankind  have  any- 
where accumulated,  and  who  is  using  these  to  add 
to  the  stock.  So  it  is  with  Denon,  Beckford,  Bel- 
zoni,  Wilkinson,  Layard,  Kane,  Lepsius  and  Liv- 
ingston. 44  The  rich  man,”  says  Saadi,  44  is  every- 
where expected  and  at  home.”  The  rich  take 
up  something  more  of  the  world  into  man’s  life. 
They  include  the  country  as  well  as  the  town,  the 
ocean-side,  the  White  Hills,  the  Far  West  and  the 
old  European  homesteads  of  man,  in  their  notion 
of  available  material.  The  world  is  his  who  has 
money  to  go  over  it.  He  arrives  at  the  sea-shore 
and  a sumptuous  ship  has  floored  and  carpeted  for 
him  the  stormy  Atlantic,  and  made  it  a luxurious 
hotel,  amid  the  horrors  of  tempests.  The  Persians 
say  44  ’T  is  the  same  to  him  who  wears  a shoe,  as 
if  the  whole  earth  were  covered  with  leather.” 

Kings  are  said  to  have  long  arms,  but  every 


WEALTH . 


95 


man  should  have  long  arms,  and  should  pluck  his 
living,  his  instruments,  his  power  and  his  know- 
ing, from  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars.  Is  not  then 
the  demand  to  be  rich  legitimate?  Yet  I have 
never  seen  a rich  man.  I have  never  seen  a man 
as  rich  as  all  men  ought  to  be,  or  with  an  adequate 
command  of  nature.  The  pulpit  and  the  press 
have  many  commonplaces  denouncing  the  thirst 
for  wealth  ; but  if  men  should  take  these  moralists 
at  their  word  and  leave  off  aiming  to  be  rich,  the 
moralists  would  rush  to  rekindle  at  all  hazards  this 
love  of  power  in  the  people,  lest  civilization  should 
be  undone.  Men  are  urged  by  their  ideas  to  ac- 
quire the  command  over  nature.  Ages  derive  a 
culture  from  the  wealth  of  Roman  Csesars,  Leo 
Tenths,  magnificent  Kings  of  France,  Grand  Dukes 
of  Tuscany,  Dukes  of  Devonshire,  Townleys,  Ver- 
nons and  Peels,  in  England ; or  whatever  great 
proprietors.  It  is  the  interest  of  all  men  that 
there  should  be  Vaticans  and  Louvres  full  of  no- 
ble works  of  art ; British  Museums,  and  French 
Gardens  of  Plants,  Philadelphia  Academies  of  Nat- 
ural History,  Bodleian,  Ambrosian,  Royal,  Con- 
gressional Libraries.  It  is  the  interest  of  all  that 
there  should  be  Exploring  Expeditions ; Captain 
Cooks  to  voyage  round  the  world,  Rosses,  Frank- 
lins, Richardsons  and  Kanes,  to  find  the  magnetic 
and  the  geographic  poles.  We  are  all  richer  for 


96  CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 

the  measurement  of  a degree  of  latitude  on  the 
earth’s  surface.  Our  navigation  is  safer  for  the 
chart.  How  intimately  our  knowledge  of  the  sys- 
tem of  the  Universe  rests  on  that ! — and  a true 
economy  in  a state  or  an  individual  will  forget  its 
frugality  in  behalf  of  claims  like  these. 

Whilst  it  is  each  man’s  interest  that  not  only 
ease  and  convenience  of  living,  but  also  wealth  or 
surplus  product  should  exist  somewhere,  it  need  not 
be  in  his  hands.  Often  it  is  very  undesirable  to 
him.  Goethe  said  well,  “Nobody  should  be  rich 
but  those  who  understand  it.”  Some  men  are  born 
to  own,  and  can  animate  all  their  possessions. 
Others  cannot : their  owning  is  not  graceful ; seems 
to  be  a compromise  of  their  character ; they  seem 
to  steal  their  own  dividends.  They  should  own 
who  can  administer,  not  they  who  hoard  and  con- 
ceal ; not  they  who,  the  greater  proprietors  they 
are,  are  only  the  greater  beggars,  but  they  whose 
work  carves  out  work  for  more,  opens  a path  for 
all.  For  he  is  the  rich  man  in  whom  the  people 
are  rich,  and  he  is  the  poor  man  in  whom  the  peo- 
ple are  poor ; and  how  to  give  all  access  to  the 
masterpieces  of  art  and  nature,  is  the  problem  of 
civilization.  The  socialism  of  our  day  has  done 
good  service  in  setting  men  on  thinking  how  cer- 
tain civilizing  benefits,  now  only  enjoyed  by  the  op- 
ulent, can  be  enjoyed  by  all.  For  example,  the 


WEALTH . 


97 


providing  to  each  man  the  means  and  apparatus  of 
science  and  of  the  arts.  There  are  many  articles 
good  for  occasional  use,  which  few  men  are  able  to 
own.  Every  man  wishes  to  see  the  ring  of  Saturn, 
the  satellites  and  belts  of  Jupiter  and  Mars,  the 
mountains  and  craters  in  the  moon  ; yet  how  few 
can  buy  a telescope  ! and  of  those,  scarcely  one 
would  like  the  trouble  of  keeping  it  in  order  and 
exhibiting  it.  So  of  electrical  and  chemical  appa- 
ratus, and  many  the  like  things.  Every  man  may 
have  occasion  to  consult  books  which  he  does  not 
care  to  possess,  such  as  cyclopedias,  dictionaries, 
tables,  charts,  maps,  and  public  documents  ; pic- 
tures also  of  birds,  beasts,  fishes,  shells,  trees,  flow- 
ers, whose  names  he  desires  to  know. 

There  is  a refining  influence  from  the  arts  of 
Design  on  a prepared  mind  which  is  as  positive  as 
that  of  music,  and  not  to  be  supplied  from  any 
other  source.  But  pictures,  engravings,  statues  and 
casts,  beside  their  first  cost,  entail  expenses,  as  of 
galleries  and  keepers  for  the  exhibition ; and  the 
use  which  any  man  can  make  of  them  is  rare,  and 
their  value  too  is  much  enhanced  by  the  numbers 
of  men  who  can  share  their  enjoyment.  In  the 
Greek  cities  it  was  reckoned  profane  that  any  per- 
son should  pretend  a property  in  a work  of  art, 
which  belonged  to  all  who  could  behold  it.  I think 
sometimes,  could  I only  have  music  on  my  own 
7 


VOL.  VI. 


93 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


terms ; coulcl  I live  in  a great  city  and  know  where 
I could  go  whenever  I wished  the  ablution  and  in- 
undation of  musical  waves,  — that  were  a bath  and 
a medicine. 

If  properties  of  this  kind  were  owned  by  states, 
towns,  and  lyceums,  they  would  draw  the  bonds 
of  neighborhood  closer.  A town  would  exist  to  an 
intellectual  purpose.  In  Europe,  where  the  feudal 
forms  secure  the  permanence  of  wealth  in  certain 
families,  those  families  buy  and  preserve  these 
things  and  lay  them  open  to  the  public.  But  in 
America,  where  democratic  institutions  divide  every 
estate  into  small  portions  after  a few  years,  the 
public  should  step  into  the  place  of  these  proprie- 
tors, and  provide  this  culture  and  inspiration  for 
the  citizen. 

Man  was  born  to  be  rich,  or  inevitably  grows 
rich  by  the  use  of  his  faculties ; by  the  union  of 
thought  with  nature.  Property  is  an  intellectual 
production.  The  game  requires  coolness,  right 
reasoning,  promptness  and  patience  in  the  players. 
Cultivated  labor  drives  out  brute  labor.  An  infi- 
nite number  of  shrewd  men,  in  infinite  years,  have 
arrived  at  certain  best  and  shortest  ways  of  doing, 
and  this  accumulated  skill  in  arts,  cultures,  har- 
vestings, curings,  manufactures,  navigations,  ex- 
changes, constitutes  the  worth  of  our  world  to-day. 

Commerce  is  a game  of  skill,  which  every  man 


WEALTH. 


99 


cannot  play,  which  few  men  can  play  well.  The 
right  merchant  is  one  who  has  the  just  average  of 
faculties  we  call  common-sense  ; a man  of  a strong 
affinity  for  facts,  who  makes  up  his  decision  on 
what  he  has  seen.  He  is  thoroughly  persuaded  of 
the  truths  of  arithmetic.  There  is  always  a reason, 
in  the  man , for  his  good  or  had  fortune,  and  so  in 
making  money.  Men  talk  as  if  there  were  some 
magic  about  this,  and  believe  in  magic,  in  all  parts 
of  life.  He  knows  that  all  goes  on  the  old  road, 
pound  for  pound,  cent  for  cent, — for  every  effect 
a perfect  cause,  — and  that  good  luck  is  another 
name  for  tenacity  of  purpose.  He  insures  himself 
in  every  transaction,  and  likes  small  and  sure  gains. 
Probity  and  closeness  to  the  facts  are  the  basis,  but 
the  masters  of  the  art  add  a certain  long  arithme- 
tic. The  problem  is  to  combine  many  and  remote 
operations  with  the  accuracy  and  adherence  to  the 
facts  which  is  easy  in  near  and  small  transactions  ; 
so  to  arrive  at  gigantic  results,  without  any  com- 
promise of  safety.  Napoleon  was  fond  of  telling 
the  story  of  the  Marseilles  banker  who  said  to  his 
visitor,  surprised  at  the  contrast  between  the  splen- 
dor of  the  banker’s  chateau  and  hospitality  and  the 
meanness  of  the  counting-room  in  which  he  had 
seen  him,  — “ Young  man,  you  are  too  young  to 
understand  how  masses  are  formed ; the  true  and 
only  power,  whether  composed  of  money,  water,  or 


100 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


men ; it  is  all  alike ; a mass  is  an  immense  cen- 
tre of  motion,  but  it  must  be  begun,  it  must  be  kept 
up  : ” — and  he  might  have  added  that  the  way  in 
which  it  must  be  begun  and  kept  up  is  by  obedi- 
ence to  the  law  of  particles. 

Success  consists  in  close  appliance  to  the  laws  of 
the  world,  and  since  those  laws  are  intellectual  and 
moral,  an  intellectual  and  moral  obedience.  Polit- 
ical Economy  is  as  good  a book  wherein  to  read 
the  life  of  man  and  the  ascendency  of  laws  over  all 
private  and  hostile  influences,  as  any  Bible  which 
has  come  down  to  us. 

Money  is  representative,  and  follows  the  nature 
and  fortunes  of  the  owner.  The  coin  is  a delicate 
meter  of  civil,  social,  and  moral  changes.  The 
fanner  is  covetous  of  his  dollar,  and  with  reason. 
It  is  no  waif  to  him.  He  knows  how  many  strokes 
of  labor  it  represents.  His  bones  ache  with  the 
days’  work  that  earned  it.  He  knows  how  much 
land  it  represents ; — how  much  rain,  frost,  and 
sunshine.  He  knows  that  in  the  dollar  he  gives 
you  so  much  discretion  and  patience,  so  much  hoe- 
ing and  threshing.  Try  to  lift  his  dollar  ; you 
must  lift  all  that  weight.  In  the  city,  where  money 
follows  the  skit  of  a pen  or  a lucky  rise  in  ex- 
change, it  comes  to  be  looked  on  as  light.  I wish 
the  farmer  held  it  dearer,  and  would  spend  it  only 
for  real  bread ; force  for  force. 


WEALTH. 


101 


The  farmer’s  dollar  is  heavy  and  the  clerk’s  is 
light  and  nimble ; leaps  out  of  his  pocket ; jumps 
on  to  cards  and  faro-tables  : but  still  more  curious 
is  its  susceptibility  to  metaphysical  changes.  It  is 
the  finest  barometer  of  social  storms,  and  announces 
revolutions. 

Every  step  of  civil  advancement  makes  every 
man’s  dollar  worth  more.  In  California,  the  coun- 
try where  it  grew,  — what  would  it  buy  ? A few 
years  since,  it  would  buy  a shanty,  dysentery,  hun- 
ger, bad  company  and  crime.  There  are  wide  coun- 
tries, like  Siberia,  where  it  would  buy  little  else  to- 
day than  some  petty  mitigation  of  suffering.  In 
Rome  it  will  buy  beauty  and  magnificence.  Forty 
years  ago,  a dollar  would  not  buy  much  in  Bos- 
ton. Now  it  will  buy  a great  deal  more  in  our 
old  town,  thanks  to  railroads,  telegraphs,  steamers, 
and  the  contemporaneous  growth  of  New  York 
and  the  whole  country.  Yet  there  are  many  goods 
appertaining  to  a capital  city  which  are  not  yet 
purchasable  here,  no,  not  with  a mountain  of  dol- 
lars. A dollar  in  Florida  is  not  worth  a dollar  in 
Massachusetts.  A dollar  is  not  value,  but  repre- 
sentative of  value,  and,  at  last,  of  moral  values.  A 
dollar  is  rated  for  the  corn  it  will  buy,  or  to  speak 
strictly,  not  for  the  corn  or  house-room,  but  for 
Athenian  corn,  and  Roman  house-room,  — for  the 
wit,  probity,  and  power  which  we  eat  bread  and 


102 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


dwell  in  houses  to  share  and  exert.  Wealth  is 
mental ; wealth  is  moral.  The  value  of  a dollar  is, 
to  buy  just  things ; a dollar  goes  on  increasing  in 
value  with  all  the  genius  and  all  the  virtue  of  the 
world.  A dollar  in  a university  is  worth  more 
than  a dollar  in  a jail;  in  a temperate,  schooled, 
law-abiding  community  than  in  some  sink  of  crime, 
where  dice,  knives  and  arsenic  are  in  constant  play. 

The  “Bank-Note  Detector”  is  a useful  publica- 
tion. But  the  current  dollar,  silver  or  paper,  is 
itself  the  detector  of  the  right  and  wrong  where  it 
circulates.  Is  it  not  instantly  enhanced  by  the  in- 
crease of  equity  ? If  a trader  refuses  to  sell  his 
vote,  or  adheres  to  some  odious  right,  he  makes  so 
much  more  equity  in  Massachusetts ; and  every 
acre  in  the  state  is  more  worth,  in  the  hour  of  his 
action.  If  you  take  out  of  State  Street  the  ten 
honestest  merchants  and  put  in  ten  roguish  persons 
controlling  the  same  amount  of  capital,  the  rates 
of  insurance  will  indicate  it  ; the  soundness  of 
banks  will  show  it ; the  highways  will  be  less  se- 
cure ; the  schools  will  feel  it,  the  children  will 
bring  home  their  little  dose  of  the  poison  ; the 
judge  will  sit  less  firmly  on  the  bench,  and  his  de- 
cisions be  less  upright ; he  has  lost  so  much  sup- 
port and  constraint,  which  all  need ; and  the  pul- 
pit will  betray  it,  in  a laxer  rule  of  life.  An  apple- 
tree,  if  you  take  out  every  day  for  a number  of 


WEALTH. 


103 


# 

days  a load  of  loam  and  put  in  a load  of  sand  about 
its  roots,  will  find  it  out.  An  apple-tree  is  a stu- 
pid kind  of  creature,  but  if  this  treatment  be  pur- 
sued for  a short  time  I think  it  would  begin  to  mis- 
trust something.  And  if  you  should  take  out  of 
the  powerful  class  engaged  in  trade  a hundred  good 
men  and  put  in  a hundred  bad,  or,  what  is  just  the 
same  thing,  introduce  a demoralizing  institution, 
would  not  the  dollar,  which  is  not  much  stupider 
than  an  apple  tree,  presently  find  it  out  ? The 
value  of  a dollar  is  social,  as  it  is  created  by  soci- 
ety. Every  man  who  removes  into  this  city  with 
any  purchasable  talent  or  skill  in  him,  gives  to 
every  man's  labor  in  the  city  a new  worth.  If  a 
talent  is  anywhere  born  into  the  world,  the  commu- 
nity of  nations  is  enriched  ; and  much  more  with  a 
new  degree  of  probity.  The  expense  of  crime,  one 
of  the  principal  charges  of  every  nation,  is  so  far 
stopped.  In  Europe,  crime  is  observed  to  increase 
or  abate  with  the  price  of  bread.  If  the  Roths- 
childs at  Paris  do  not  accept  bills,  the  people  at 
Manchester,  at  Paisley,  at  Birmingham  are  forced 
into  the  highway,  and  landlords  are  shot  down  in 
Ireland.  The  police-records  attest  it.  The  vibra- 
tions are  presently  felt  in  New  York,  New  Orleans, 
and  Chicago.  Not  much  otherwise  the  economical 
power  touches  the  masses  through  the  political 
lords.  Rothschild  refuses  the  Russian  loan,  and 


104 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


there  is  peace  and  the  harvests  are  saved.  He 
takes  it,  and  there  is  war  and  an  agitation  through 
a large  portion  of  mankind,  with  every  hideous  re- 
sult, ending  in  revolution  and  a new  order. 

Wealth  brings  with  it  its  own  checks  and  bal- 
ances. The  basis  of  political  economy  is  non-inter- 
ference. The  only  safe  rule  is  found  in  the  self- 
adjusting  meter  of  demand  and  supply.  Do  not 
legislate.  Meddle,  and  you  snap  the  sinews  with 
your  sumptuary  laws.  Give  no  bounties,  make 
equal  laws,  secure  life  and  property,  and  you  need 
not  give  alms.  Open  the  doors  of  opportunity  to 
talent  and  virtue  and  they  will  do  themselves  jus- 
tice, and  property  will  not  be  in  bad  hands.  In  a 
free  and  just  commonwealth,  property  rushes  from 
the  idle  and  imbecile  to  the  industrious,  brave  and 
persevering. 

The  laws  of  nature  play  through  trade,  as  a toy- 
battery  exhibits  the  effects  of  electricity.  The 
level  of  the  sea  is  not  more  surely  kept  than  is  the 
equilibrium  of  value  in  society  by  the  demand  and 
supply  ; and  artifice  or  legislation  punishes  itself  by 
reactions,  gluts,  and  bankruptcies.  The  sublime 
laws  play  indifferently  through  atoms  and  galaxies. 
Whoever  knows  what  happens  in  the  getting  and 
spending  of  a loaf  of  bread  and  a pint  of  beer,  that 
no  wishing  will  change  the  rigorous  limits  of  pints 
and  penny  loaves ; that,  for  all  that  is  consumed  so 


WEALTH. 


105 


much  less  remains  in  the  basket  and  pot,  but  what 
is  gone  out  of  these  is  not  wasted  but  well  spent  if 
it  nourish  his  body  and  enable  him  to  finish  his 
task  ; — knows  all  of  political  economy  that  the 
budgets  of  empires  can  teach  him.  The  interest  of 
petty  economy  is  this  symbolization  of  the  great 
economy  ; the  way  in  which  a house  and  a private 
man’s  methods  tally  with  the  solar  system  and  the 
laws  of  give  and  take,  throughout  nature ; and  how- 
ever wary  we  are  of  the  falsehoods  and  petty  tricks 
which  we  suicidally  play  off  on  each  other,  every 
man  has  a certain  satisfaction  whenever  his  dealing 
touches  on  the  inevitable  facts ; when  he  sees  that 
things  themselves  dictate  the  price,  as  they  always 
tend  to  do,  and,  in  large  manufactures,  are  seen  to 
do.  Your  paper  is  not  fine  or  coarse  enough,  — is 
too  heavy,  or  too  thin.  The  manufacturer  says  he 
will  furnish  you  with  just  that  thickness  or  thinness 
you  want ; the  pattern  is  quite  indifferent  to  him  ; 
here  is  his  schedule  ; — any  variety  of  paper,  as 
cheaper  or  dearer,  with  the  prices  annexed.  A 
pound  of  paper  costs  so  much,  and  you  may  have  it 
made  up  in  any  pattern  you  fancy. 

There  is  in  all  our  dealings  a self -regulation  that 
supersedes  chaffering.  You  will  rent  a house,  but 
must  have  it  cheap.  The  owner  can  reduce  the 
rent,  but  so  he  incapacitates  himself  from  making 
proper  repairs,  and  the  tenant  gets  not  the  house  he 


106 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


would  have,  but  a worse  one ; besides  that  a rela- 
tion a little  injurious  is  established  between  land- 
lord and  tenant.  You  dismiss  your  laborer,  saying, 
“ Patrick,  I shall  send  for  you  as  soon  as  I cannot 
do  without  you.”  Patrick  goes  off  contented,  for 
he  knows  that  the  weeds  will  grow  with  the  pota- 
toes, the  vines  must  be  planted,  next  week,  and 
however  unwilling  you  may  be,  the  cantelopes, 
crook-necks  and  cucumbers  will  send  for  him.  Who 
but  must  wish  that  all  labor  and  value  should  stand 
on  the  same  simple  and  surly  market  ? If  it  is  the 
best  of  its  kind,  it  will.  We  must  have  joiner, 
locksmith,  planter,  priest,  poet,  doctor,  cook,  weaver, 
ostler ; each  in  turn,  through  the  year. 

If  a St.  Michael’s  pear  sells  for  a shilling,  it  costs 
a shilling  to  raise  it.  If,  in  Boston,  the  best  securi- 
ties offer  twelve  per  cent,  for  money,  they  have  just 
six  per  cent  of  insecurity.  You  may  not  see  that  the 
fine  pear  costs  you  a shilling,  but  ifc  costs  the  com- 
munity so  much.  The  shilling  represents  the  num- 
ber of  enemies  the  pear  has,  and  the  amount  of  risk 
in  ripening  it.  The  price  of  coal  shows  the  narrow- 
ness of  the  coal-field,  and  a compulsory  confinement 
of  the  miners  to  a certain  district.  All  salaries 
are  reckoned  on  contingent  as  well  as  on  actual 
services.  “ If  the  wind  were  always  southwest  by 
west,”  said  the  skipper,  “ women  might  take  ships 
to  sea.”  One  might  say  that  all  things  are  of  one 


WEALTH. 


107 


price  ; that  nothing  is  cheap  or  dear,  and  that  the 
apparent  disparities  that  strike  us  are  only  a shop- 
man's trick  of  concealing  the  damage  in  your  bar- 
gain. A youth  coming  into  the  city  from  his  na- 
tive New  Hampshire  farm,  with  its  hard  fare  still 
fresh  in  his  remembrance,  boards  at  a first-class 
hotel,  and  believes  he  must  somehow  have  out- 
witted Dr.  Franklin  and  Malthus,  for  luxuries  are 
cheap.  But  he  pays  for  the  one  convenience  of  a 
better  dinner,  by  the  loss  of  some  of  the  richest  so- 
cial and  educational  advantages.  He  has  lost  what 
guards ! what  incentives  ! He  will  perhaps  find 
by  and  by  that  he  left  the  Muses  at  the  door  of  the 
hotel,  and  found  the  Furies  inside.  Money  often 
costs  too  much,  and  power  and  pleasure  are  not 
cheap.  The  ancient  poet  said  “ The  gods  sell  all 
things  at  a fair  price.” 

There  is  an  example  of  the  compensations  in  the 
commercial  history  of  this  country.  When  the 
European  wars  threw  the  carrying  - trade  of  the 
world,  from  1800  to  1812,  into  American  bottoms, 
a seizure  was  now  and  then  made  of  an  American 
ship.  Of  course  the  loss  was  serious  to  the  owner, 
but  the  country  was  indemnified ; for  we  charged 
threepence  a pound  for  carrying  cotton,  sixpence 
for  tobacco,  and  so  on  ; which  paid  for  the  risk  and 
loss,  and  brought  into  the  country  an  immense  pros- 
perity, early  marriages,  private  wealth,  the  building 


108 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


of  cities  and  of  states : and  after  the  war  was  over, 
we  received  compensation  over  and  above,  by  treaty, 
for  all  the  seizures.  W ell,  the  Americans  grew  rich 
and  great.  But  the  pay-day  comes  round.  Brit- 
ain, France,  and  Germany,  which  our  extraordinary 
profits  had  impoverished,  send  out,  attracted  by  the 
fame  of  our  advantages,  first  their  thousands  then 
their  millions  of  poor  people,  to  share  the  crop. 
At  first  we  employ  them,  and  increase  our  pros- 
perity ; but,  in  the  artificial  system  of  society  and 
of  protected  labor,  which  we  also  have  adopted  and 
enlarged,  there  come  presently  checks  and  stop- 
pages. Then  we  refuse  to  employ  these  poor  men. 
But  they  will  not  so  be  answered.  They  go  into 
the  poor-rates,  and  though  we  refuse  wages,  we  must 
now  pay  the  same  amount  in  the  form  of  taxes. 
Again,  it  turns  out  that  the  largest  proportion  of 
crimes  are  committed  by  foreigners.  The  cost  of 
the  crime  and  the  expense  of  courts  and  of  prisons 
we  must  bear,  and  the  standing  army  of  preventive 
police  we  must  pay.  The  cost  of  education  of  the 
posterity  of  this  great  colony,  I will  not  compute. 
But  the  gross  amount  of  these  costs  will  begin  to 
pay  back  what  we  thought  was  a net  gain  from  our 
transatlantic  customers  of  1800.  It  is  vain  to  re- 
fuse this  payment.  We  cannot  get  rid  of  these 
people,  and  we  cannot  get  rid  of  their  will  to  be 
supported.  That  has  become  an  inevitable  element 


WEALTH. 


109 


of  our  politics  ; and,  for  their  votes,  each  of  the 
dominant  parties  courts  and  assists  them  to  get  it 
executed.  Moreover,  we  have  to  pay,  not  what 
would  have  contented  them  at  home,  but  what  they 
have  learned  to  think  necessary  here ; so  that  opin- 
ion, fancy,  and  all  manner  of  moral  considerations 
complicate  the  problem. 

There  are  few  measures  of  economy  which  will 
bear  to  be  named  without  disgust ; for  the  subject 
is  tender  and  we  may  easily  have  too  much  of  it, 
and  therein  resembles  the  hideous  animalcules  of 
which  our  bodies  are  built  up,  — which,  offensive  in 
the  particular,  yet  compose  valuable  and  effective 
masses.  Our  nature  and  genius  force  us  to  respect 
ends,  whilst  we  use  means.  We  must  use  the 
means,  and  yet,  in  our  most  accurate  using  some^ 
how  screen  and  cloak  them,  as  we  can  only  give 
them  any  beauty  by  a reflection  of  the  glory  of  the 
end.  That  is  the  good  head,  which  serves  the  end 
and  commands  the  means.  The  rabble  are  cor- 
rupted by  their  means ; the  means  are  too  strong 
for  them,  and  they  desert  their  end. 

1.  The  first  of  these  measures  is  that  each  man’s 
expense  must  proceed  from  his  character.  As  long 
as  your  genius  buys,  the  investment  is  safe,  though 
you  spend  like  a monarch.  Nature  arms  each  man 
with  some  faculty  which  enables  him  to  do  easily 


110 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


some  feat  impossible  to  any  other,  and  thus  makes 
him  necessary  to  society.  This  native  determina- 
tion guides  his  labor  and  his  spending.  He  wants 
an  equipment  of  means  and  tools  proper  to  his  tal- 
ent. And  to  save  on  this  point  were  to  neutralize 
the  special  strength  and  helpfulness  of  each  mind. 
Do  your  work,  respecting  the  excellence  of  the 
work,  and  not  its  acceptableness.  This  is  so  much 
economy  that,  rightly  read,  it  is  the  sum  of  econ- 
omy. Profligacy  consists  not  in  spending  years  of 
time  or  chests  of  money,  — but  in  spending  them 
off  the  line  of  your  career.  The  crime  which  bank- 
rupts men  and  states  is  job-work ; — declining  from 
your  main  design,  to  serve  a turn  here  or  there. 
Nothing  is  beneath  you,  if  it  is  in  the  direction  of 
your  life ; nothing  is  great  or  desirable  if  it  is  off 
from  that.  I think  we  are  entitled  here  to  draw  a 
straight  line  and  say  that  society  can  never  prosper 
but  must  always  be  bankrupt,  until  every  man  does 
that  which  he  was  created  to  do. 

Spend  for  your  expense,  and  retrench  the  expense 
which  is  not  yours.  Allston  the  painter  was  wont 
to  say  that  he  built  a plain  house,  and  filled  it  with 
plain  furniture,  because  he  would  hold  out  no  bribe 
to  any  to  visit  him  who  had  not  similar  tastes  to 
his  own.  We  are  sympathetic,  and,  like  children, 
want  everything  we  see.  But  it  is  a large  stride  to 
independence,  when  a man,  in  the  discovery  of 


WEALTH. 


Ill 


his  proper  talent,  has  sunk  the  necessity  for  false 
expenses.  As  the  betrothed  maiden  by  one  secure 
affection  is  relieved  from  a system  of  slaveries,  — 
the  daily  inculcated  necessity  of  pleasing  all,  — so 
the  man  who  has  found  what  he  can  do,  can  spend 
on  that  and  leave  all  other  spending.  Montaigne 
said,  “ When  he  was  a younger  brother,  he  went 
brave  in  dress  and  equipage,  but  afterward  his 
chateau  and  farms  might  answer  for  him.”  Let 
a man  who  belongs  to  the  class  of  nobles,  those 
namely  who  have  found  out  that  they  can  do  some- 
thing, relieve  himself  of  all  vague  squandering  on 
objects  not  his.  Let  the  realist  not  mind  appear- 
ances. Let  him  delegate  to  others  the  costly  cour- 
tesies and  decorations  of  social  life.  The  virtues 
are  economists,  but  some  of  the  vices  are  also. 
Thus,  next  to  humility,  I have  noticed  that  pride 
is  a pretty  good  husband.  A good  pride  is,  as  I 
reckon  it,  worth  from  five  hundred  to  fifteen  hun- 
dred a year.  Pride  is  handsome,  economical ; pride 
eradicates  so  many  vices,  letting  none  subsist  but 
itself,  that  it  seems  as  if  it  were  a great  gain  to  ex- 
change vanity  for  pride.  Pride  can  go  without 
domestics,  without  fine  clothes,  can  live  in  a house 
with  two  rooms,  can  eat  potato,  purslain,  beans, 
lyed  corn,  can  work  on  the  soil,  can  travel  afoot, 
can  talk  with  poor  men,  or  sit  silent  well-contented 
in  fine  saloons.  But  vanity  costs  money,  labor, 


112 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


horses,  men,  women,  health,  and  peace,  and  is  still 
nothing  at  last ; a long  way  leading  nowhere.  Only 
one  drawback  ; proud  people  are  intolerably  selfish, 
and  the  vain  are  gentle  and  giving. 

Art  is  a jealous  mistress,  and  if  a man  have  a 
genius  for  painting,  poetry,  music,  architecture,  or 
philosophy,  he  makes  a bad  husband  and  an  ill  pro- 
vider, and  should  be  wise  in  season  and  not  fetter 
himself  with  duties  which  will  embitter  his  days 
and  spoil  him  for  his  proper  work.  We  had  in 
this  region,  twenty  years  ago,  among  our  educated 
men,  a sort  of  Arcadian  fanaticism,  a passionate 
desire  to  go  upon  the  land  and  unite  farming  to 
intellectual  pursuits.  Many  effected  their  purpose 
and  made  the  experiment,  and  some  became  down- 
right ploughmen  ; but  all  were  cured  of  their  faith 
that  scholarship  and  practical  farming  (I  mean, 
with  one’s  own  hands)  could  be  united. 

With  brow  bent,  with  firm  intent,  the  pale 
scholar  leaves  his  desk  to  draw  a freer  breath  and 
get  a juster  statement  of  his  thought,  in  the  garden- 
walk.  He  stoops  to  pull  up  a purslain  or  a dock 
that  is  choking  the  young  corn,  and  finds  there  are 
two ; close  behind  the  last  is  a third  ; he  reaches 
out  his  hand  to  a fourth,  behind  that  are  four  thou- 
sand and  one.  He  is  heated  and  untuned,  and  by 
and  by  wakes  up  from  his  idiot  dream  of  chickweed 
and  red-root,  to  remember  his  morning  thought,  and 


WEALTH. 


118 


tc  find  that  with  his  adamantine  purposes  he  has 
been  duped  by  a dandelion.  A garden  is  like  those 
pernicious  machineries  we  read  of  every  month  in 
the  newspapers,  which  catch  a man’s  coat-skirt  or 
his  hand  and  draw  in  his  arm,  his  leg  and  his  whole 
body  to  irresistible  destruction.  In  an  evil  hour 
he  pulled  down  his  wall  and  added  a field  to  his 
homestead.  No  land  is  bad,  but  land  is  worse.  If 
a man  own  land,  the  land  owns  him.  Now  let  him 
leave  home,  if  he  dare.  Every  tree  and  graft,  every 
hill  of  melons,  row  of  corn,  or  quickset  hedge ; all 
he  has  done  and  all  he  means  to  do,  stand  in  his 
way  like  duns,  when  he  would  go  out  of  his  gate. 
The  devotion  to  these  vines  and  trees  he  finds 
poisonous.  Long  free  walks,  a circuit  of  miles,  free 
his  brain  and  serve  his  body.  Long  marches  are  no 
hardship  to  him.  He  believes  he  composes  easily 
on  the  hills.  But  this  pottering  in  a few  square 
yards  of  garden  is  dispiriting  and  drivelling.  The 
smell  of  the  plants  has  drugged  him  and  robbed 
him  of  energy.  He  finds  a catalepsy  in  his  bones. 
He  grows  peevish  and  poor-spirited.  The  genius 
of  reading  and  of  gardening  are  antagonistic,  like 
resinous  and  vitreous  electricity.  One  is  concen- 
trative  in  sparks  and  shocks  ; the  other  is  diffuse 
strength  ; so  that  each  disqualifies  its  workman  for 
the  other’s  duties. 

An  engraver,  whose  hands  must  be  of  an  exqui- 

VOL.  VI.  8 


114 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


site  delicacy  of  stroke,  should  not  lay  stone  walls. 
Sir  David  Brewster  gives  exact  instructions  for 
microscopic  observation : “ Lie  down  on  your  back, 
and  hold  the  single  lens  and  object  over  your  eye,” 
&c.  &c.  How  much  more  the  seeker  of  abstract 
truth,  who  needs  periods  of  isolation  and  rapt  con- 
centration and  almost  a going  out  of  the  body  to 
think  ! 

2.  Spend  after  your  genius,  and  by  system . Na- 
ture goes  by  rule,  not  by  sallies  and  saltations. 
There  must  be  system  in  the  economies.  Saving 
and  unexpensiveness  will  not  keep  the  most  pathetic 
family  from  ruin,  nor  will  bigger  incomes  make  free 
spending  safe.  The  secret  of  success  lies  never 
in  the  amount  of  money,  but  in  the  relation  of  in- 
come to  outgo ; as,  after  expense  has  been  fixed  at 
a certain  point,  then  new  and  steady  rills  of  income 
though  never  so  small  being  added,  wealth  begins. 
But  in  ordinary,  as  means  increase,  spending  in- 
creases faster,  so  that  large  incomes,  in  England 
and  elsewhere,  are  found  not  to  help  matters ; — 
the  eating  quality  of  debt  does  not  relax  its  vorac- 
ity. When  the  cholera  is  in  the  potato,  what  is  the 
use  of  planting  larger  crops  ? In  England,  the 
richest  country  in  the  universe,  I was  assured  by 
shrewd  observers  that  great  lords  and  ladies  had  no 
more  guineas  to  give  away  than  other  people ; that 
liberality  with  money  is  as  rare  and  as  immediately 


WEALTH. 


115 


famous  a virtue  as  it  is  here.  Want  is  a growing 
giant  whom  the  coat  of  Have  was  never  large 
enough  to  cover.  I remember  in  Warwickshire  to 
have  been  shown  a fair  manor,  still  in  the  same 
name  as  in  Shakspeare’s  time.  The  rent-roll  I was 
told  is  some  fourteen  thousand  pounds  a year ; but 
when  the  second  son  of  the  late  proprietor  was 
born,  the  father  was  perplexed  how  to  provide  for 
him.  The  eldest  son  must  inherit  the  manor;  what 
to  do  with  this  supernumerary  ? He  was  advised 
to  breed  him  for  the  Church  and  to  settle  him  in 
the  rectorship  which  was  in  the  gift  of  the  family ; 
which  was  done.  It  is  a general  rule  in  that  coun- 
try that  bigger  incomes  do  not  help  anybody.  It 
is  commonly  observed  that  a sudden  wealth,  like  a 
prize  drawn  in  a lottery  or  a large  bequest  to  a 
poor  family,  does  not  permanently  enrich.  They 
have  served  no  apprenticeship  to  wealth,  and  with 
the  rapid  wealth  come  rapid  claims  which  they  do 
not  know  how  to  deny,  and  the  treasure  is  quickly 
dissipated. 

A system  must  be  in  every  economy,  or  the  best 
single  expedients  are  of  no  avail.  A farm  is  a 
good  thing  when  it  begins  and  ends  with  itself, 
and  does  not  need  a salary  or  a shop  to  eke  it  out. 
Thus,  the  cattle  are  a main  link  in  the  chain-ring. 
If  the  non-conformist  or  aesthetic  farmer  leaves  out 
the  cattle  and  does  not  also  leave  out  the  want 


116 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


which  the  cattle  must  supply,  he  must  fill  the  gap 
by  begging  or  stealing.  When  men  now  alive 
were  born,  the  farm  yielded  everything  that  was 
consumed  on  it.  The  farm  yielded  no  money,  and 
the  farmer  got  on  without.  If  he  fell  sick,  his 
neighbors  came  in  to  his  aid ; each  gave  a day’s 
work,  or  a half  day  ; or  lent  his  yoke  of  oxen,  or 
his  horse,  and  kept  his  work  even ; hoed  his  pota- 
toes, mowed  his  hay,  reaped  his  rye  ; well  knowing 
that  no  man  could  afford  to  hire  labor  without  sell- 
ing his  land.  In  autumn  a farmer  could  sell  an  ox 
or  a hog  and  get  a little  money  to  pay  taxes  withal. 
Now,  the  farmer  buys  almost  all  he  consumes,  — 
tin- ware,  cloth,  sugar,  tea,  coffee,  fish,  coal,  railroad- 
tickets  and  newspapers. 

A master  in  each  art  is  required,  because  the 
practice  is  never  with  still  or  dead  subjects,  but 
they  change  in  your  hands.  You  think  farm-build- 
ings and  broad  acres  a solid  property ; but  its  value 
is  flowing  like  water.  It  requires  as  much  watch- 
ing as  if  you  were  decanting  wine  from  a cask. 
The  farmer  knows  what  to  do  with  it,  stops  every 
leak,  turns  all  the  streamlets  to  one  reservoir  and 
decants  wine  ; but  a blunderhead  comes  out  of 
Cornhill,  tries  his  hand,  and  it  all  leaks  away.  So 
is  it  with  granite  streets  or  timber  townships  as 
with  fruit  or  flowers.  Nor  is  any  investment  so 
permanent  that  it  can  be  allowed  to  remain  with- 


WEALTH. 


117 


out  incessant  watching,  as  the  history  of  each  at- 
tempt to  lock  up  an  inheritance  through  two  gener- 
ations for  an  unborn  inheritor  may  show. 

When  Mr.  Cockayne  takes  a cottage  in  the  coun- 
try, and  will  keep  his  cow,  he  thinks  a cow  is  a 
creature  that  is  fed  on  hay  and  gives  a pail  of  milk 
twice  a day.  But  the  cow  that  he  buys  gives  milk 
for  three  months  ; then  her  bag  dries  up.  What 
to  do  with  a dry  cow  ? who  will  buy  her  ? Perhaps 
he  bought  also  a yoke  of  oxen  to  do  his  work ; but 
they  get  blown  and  lame.  "What  to  do  with  blown 
and  lame  oxen  ? The  farmer  fats  his  after  the 
spring-work  is  done,  and  kills  them  in  the  fall. 
But  how  can  Cockayne,  who  has  no  pastures,  and 
leaves  his  cottage  daily  in  the  cars  at  business 
hours,  be  pothered  with  fatting  and  killing  oxen  ? 
He  plants  trees  ; but  there  must  be  crops,  to  keep 
the  trees  in  ploughed  land.  What  shall  be  the 
crops  ? He  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  trees,  but 
will  have  grass.  After  a year  or  two  the  grass 
must  be  turned  up  and  ploughed;  now  what  crops? 
Credulous  Cockayne  ! 

3.  Help  comes  in  the  custom  of  the  country, 
and  the  rule  of  Impera  parendo.  The  rule  is  not 
to  dictate  nor  to  insist  on  carrying  out  each  of  your 
schemes  by  ignorant  wilfulness,  but  to  learn  practi- 
cally the  secret  spoken  from  all  nature,  that  things 
themselves  refuse  to  be  mismanaged,  and  will  show 


118 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


to  the  watchful  their  own  law.  Nobody  need  stir 
hand  or  foot.  The  custom  of  the  country  will  do 
it  all.  I know  not  how  to  build  or  to  plant ; nei- 
ther how  to  buy  wood,  nor  what  to  do  with  the 
house-lot,  the  field,  or  the  wood-lot,  when  bought. 
Never  fear ; it  is  all  settled  how  it  shall  be,  long 
beforehand,  in  the  custom  of  the  country,  — whether 
to  sand  or  whether  to  clay  it,  when  to  plough,  and 
how  to  dress,  whether  to  grass  or  to  corn  ; and  you 
cannot  help  or  hinder  it.  Nature  has  her  own  best 
mode  of  doing  each  thing,  and  she  has  somewhere 
told  it  plainly,  if  we  will  keep  our  eyes  and  ears 
open.  If  not,  she  will  not  be  slow  in  undeceiving 
us  when  we  prefer  our  own  way  to  hers.  How 
often  we  must  remember  the  art  of  the  surgeon, 
which,  in  replacing  the  broken  bone,  contents  itself 
with  releasing  the  parts  from  false  position ; they 
fly  into  place  by  the  action  of  the  muscles.  On 
this  art  of  nature  all  our  arts  rely. 

Of  the  two  eminent  engineers  in  the  recent  con- 
struction of  railways  in  England,  Mr.  Brunei  went 
straight  from  terminus  to  terminus,  through  moun- 
tains, over  streams,  crossing  highways,  cutting  du- 
cal estates  in  two,  and  shooting  through  this  man’s 
cellar  and  that  man’s  attic  window,  and  so  arriving 
at  his  end,  at  great  pleasure  to  geometers,  but  with 
cost  to  his  company.  Mr.  Stephenson  on  the  con- 
trary, believing  that  the  river  knows  the  way,  fok 


WEALTH. 


119 


lowed  his  valley  as  implicitly  as  our  Western  Rail- 
road follows  the  Westfield  River,  and  turned  out 
to  be  the  safest  and  cheapest  engineer.  We  say 
the  cows  laid  out  Boston.  Well,  there  are  worse 
surveyors.  Every  pedestrian  in  our  pastures  has 
frequent  occasion  to  thank  the  cows  for  cutting  the 
best  path  through  the  thicket  and  over  the  hills  ; 
and  travellers  and  Indians  know  the  value  of  a 
buffalo-trail,  which  is  sure  to  be  the  easiest  possible 
pass  through  the  ridge. 

When  a citizen  fresh  from  Dock  Square  or  Milk 
Street  comes  out  and  buys  land  in  the  country,  his 
first  thought  is  to  a fine  outlook  from  his  windows ; 
his  library  must  command  a western  view ; a sun- 
set every  day,  bathing  the  shoulder  of  Blue  Hills, 
Wachusett,  and  the  peaks  of  Monadnoc  and  Unca- 
noonuc.  What,  thirty  acres,  and  all  this  magnifi- 
cence for  fifteen  hundred  dollars  ! It  would  be 
cheap  at  fifty  thousand.  He  proceeds  at  once,  his 
eyes  dim  with  tears  of  joy,  to  fix  the  spot  for  his 
corner-stone.  But  the  man  who  is  to  level  the 
ground  thinks  it  will  take  many  hundred  loads  of 
gravel  to  fill  the  hollow  to  the  road.  The  stone- 
mason who  should  build  the  well  thinks  he  shall 
have  to  dig  forty  feet ; the  baker  doubts  he  shall 
never  like  to  drive  up  to  the  door ; the  practical 
neighbor  cavils  at  the  position  of  the  barn  ; and 
the  citizen  comes  to  know  that  his  predecessor  the 


120 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


farmer  built  the  house  in  the  right  spot  for  the  sun 
and  wind,  the  spring,  and  water-drainage,  and  the 
convenience  to  the  pasture,  the  garden,  the  field 
and  the  road.  So  Dock  Square  yields  the  point, 
and  things  have  their  own  way.  Use  has  made  the 
farmer  wise,  and  the  foolish  citizen  learns  to  take 
his  counsel.  From  step  to  step  he  comes  at  last  to 
surrender  at  discretion.  The  farmer  affects  to  take 
his  orders  ; but  the  citizen  says,  You  may  ask  me 
as  often  as  you  will,  and  in  what  ingenious  forms, 
for  an  opinion  concerning  the  mode  of  building  my 
wall,  or  sinking  my  well,  or  laying  out  my  acre, 
but  the  ball  will  rebound  to  you.  These  are  mat- 
ters on  which  I neither  know  nor  need  to  know 
anything.  These  are  questions  which  you  and  not 
I shall  answer. 

Not  less  within  doors  a system  settles  itself  para- 
mount and  tyrannical  over  master  and  mistress, 
servant  and  child,  cousin  and  acquaintance.  ’T  is 
in  vain  that  genius  or  virtue  or  energy  of  charac- 
ter strive  and  cry  against  It.  This  is  fate.  And 
’t  is  very  well  that  the  poor  husband  reads  in  a 
book  of  a new  way  of  living,  and  resolves  to  adopt 
it  at  home ; let  him  go  home  and  try  it,  if  he  dare. 

4.  Another  point  of  economy  is  to  look  for 
seed  of  the  same  kind  as  you  sow,  and  not  to  hope 
to  buy  one  kind  with  another  kind.  Friendship 
buys  friendship ; justice,  justice ; military  merit, 


WEALTH. 


121 


military  success.  Good  husbandry  finds  wife,  chil- 
dren and  household.  The  good  merchant,  large 
gains,  ships,  stocks,  and  money.  The  good  poet, 
fame  and  literary  credit ; but  not  either,  the  other. 
Yet  there  is  commonly  a confusion  of  expectations 
on  these  points.  Hotspur  lives  for  the  moment, 
praises  himself  for  it,  and  despises  Furlong,  that  he 
does  not.  Hotspur  of  course  is  poor,  and  Furlong 
a good  provider.  The  odd  circumstance  is  that 
Hotspur  thinks  it  a superiority  in  himself,  this 
improvidence,  which  ought  to  be  rewarded  with 
Furlong’s  lands. 

I have  not  at  all  completed  my  design.  But  we 
must  not  leave  the  topic  without  casting  one  glance 
into  the  interior  recesses.  It  is  a doctrine  of  phi- 
losophy that  man  is  a being  of  degrees  ; that  there 
is  nothing  in  the  world  which  is  not  repeated  in 
his  body,  his  body  being  a sort  of  miniature  or 
summary  of  the  world ; then  that  there  is  nothing 
in  his  body  which  is  not  repeated  as  in  a celestial 
sphere  in  his  mind ; then,  there  is  nothing  in  his 
brain  which  is  not  repeated  in  a higher  sphere  in 
his  moral  system. 

5.  Now  these  things  are  so  in  Nature.  All 
things  ascend,  and  the  royal  rule  of  economy  is 
that  it  should  ascend  also,  or,  whatever  we  do 
must  always  have  a higher  aim.  Thus  it  is  a 
maxim  that  money  is  another  kind  of  blood.  Pe- 


122 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


cunia  alter  sanguis : or,  the  estate  of  a man  is  only 
a larger  kind  of  body,  and  admits  of  regimen 
analogous  to  his  bodily  circulations.  So  there  is  no 
maxim  of  the  merchant  which  does  not  admit  of 
an  extended  sense,  e.  g .,  “ Best  use  of  money  is  to 
pay  debts  ; ” “ Every  business  by  itself ; ” “ Best 
time  is  present  time ; ” “ The  right  investment  is 
in  tools  of  your  trade  ; ” and  the  like.  The  count- 
ing-room maxims  liberally  expounded  are  laws  of 
the  Universe.  The  merchant’s  economy  is  a coarse 
symbol  of  the  soul’s  economy.  It  is  to  spend  for 
power  and  not  for  pleasure.  It  is  to  invest  in- 
come ; that  is  to  say  to  take  up  particulars  into 
generals  ; days  into  integral  eras  — literary,  emo- 
tive, practical  — of  its  life,  and  still  to  ascend  in 
its  investment.  The  merchant  has  but  one  rule, 
absorb  and  invest ; he  is  to  be  capitalist ; the 
scraps  and  filings  must  be  gathered  back  into  the 
crucible ; the  gas  and  smoke  must  be  burned,  and 
earnings  must  not  go  to  increase  expense,  but  to 
capital  again.  Well,  the  man  must  be  capitalist. 
Will  he  spend  his  income,  or  will  he  invest  ? His 
body  and  every  organ  is  under  the  same  law.  His 
body  is  a jar  in  which  the  liquor  of  life  is  stored. 
Will  he  spend  for  pleasure?  The  way  to  ruin  is 
short  and  facile.  Will  he  not  spend  but  hoard  for 
power?  It  passes  through  the  sacred  fermenta- 
tions, by  that  law  of  Nature  whereby  everything 


WEALTH. 


123 


climbs  to  higher  platforms,  and  bodily  vigor  be- 
comes mental  and  moral  vigor.  The  bread  he 
eats  is  first  strength  and  animal  spirits ; it  becomes, 
in  higher  laboratories,  imagery  and  thought ; and 
in  still  higher  results,  courage  and  endurance. 
This  is  the  right  compound  interest ; this  is  cap- 
ital doubled,  quadrupled,  centupled ; man  raised 
to  his  highest  power. 

The  true  thrift  is  always  to  spend  on  the  higher 
plane ; to  invest  and  invest,  with  keener  avarice, 
that  he  may  spend  in  spiritual  creation  and  not  in 
augmenting  animal  existence.  Nor  is  the  man  en- 
riched, in  repeating  the  old  experiments  of  ani- 
mal sensation ; nor  unless  through  new  powers  and 
ascending  pleasures  he  knows  himself  by  the  ac- 
tual experience  of  higher  good  to  be  already  on 
the  way  to  the  highest. 


IY. 


CULTURE. 


Can  rules  or  tutors  educate 
The  semigod  whom  we  await  ? 

He  must  be  musical, 

Tremulous,  impressional, 

Alive  to  gentle  influence 
Of  landscape  and  of  sky, 

And  tender  to  the  spirit-touch 
Of  man’s  or  maiden’s  eye  : 

But,  to  his  native  centre  fast, 

Shall  into  Future  fuse  the  Past, 

And  the  world’s  flowing  fates  in  his  own  mould 
recast. 


CULTURE. 


The  word  of  ambition  at  the  present  day  is  Cul- 
ture. Whilst  all  the  world  is  in  pursuit  of  power, 
and  of  wealth  as  a means  of  power,  culture  corrects 
the  theory  of  success.  A man  is  the  prisoner  of  his 
power.  A topical  memory  makes  him  an  almanac ; 
a talent  for  debate,  a disputant ; skill  to  get  money 
makes  him  a miser,  that  is,  a beggar.  Culture  re- 
duces these  inflammations  by  invoking  the  aid  of 
other  powers  against  the  dominant  talent,  and  by 
appealing  to  the  rank  of  powers.  It  watches  suc- 
cess. For  performance,  Nature  has  no  mercy,  and 
sacrifices  the  performer  to  get  it  done;  makes  a 
dropsy  or  a tympany  of  him.  If  she  wants  a 
thumb,  she  makes  one  at  the  cost  of  arms  and  legs, 
and  any  excess  of  power  in  one  part  is  usually  paid 
for  at  once  by  some  defect  in  a contiguous  part. 

Our  efficiency  depends  so  much  on  our  concen- 
tration, that  Nature  usually  in  the  instances  where 
a marked  man  is  sent  into  the  world,  overloads  him 
with  bias,  sacrificing  his  symmetry  to  his  working 
power.  It  is  said  a man  can  write  but  one  book ; 
and  if  a man  have  a defect,  it  is  apt  to  leave  its  im- 
pression on  all  his  performances.  If  she  creates  a 


128 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


policeman  like  Fouch6,  lie  is  made  up  of  suspicions 
and  of  plots  to  circumvent  them.  “ The  air,”  said 
Fouche,  u is  full  of  poniards.”  The  physician 
Sanctorius  spent  his  life  in  a pair  of  scales,  weigh- 
ing his  food.  Lord  Coke  valued  Chaucer  highly 
because  the  Canon  Yeman’s  Tale  illustrates  the 
statute  fifth  Hen . IV.  Chap . 4,  against  alchemy. 
I saw  a man  who  believed  the  principal  mischiefs 
in  the  English  state  were  derived  from  the  devotion 
to  musical  concerts.  A freemason,  not  long  since, 
set  out  to  explain  to  this  country  that  the  principal 
cause  of  the  success  of  General  Washington  was 
the  aid  he  derived  from  the  freemasons. 

But  worse  than  the  harping  on  one  string,  Nature 
has  secured  individualism  by  giving  the  private 
person  a high  conceit  of  his  weight  in  the  system. 
The  pest  of  society  is  egotists.  There  are  dull  and 
bright,  sacred  and  profane,  coarse  and  fine  egotists. 
It  is  a disease  that  like  influenza  falls  on  all  consti- 
tutions. In  the  distemper  known  to  physicians  as 
chorea , the  patient  sometimes  turns  round  and  con- 
tinues to  spin  slowly  on  one  spot.  Is  egotism  a 
metaphysical  variety  of  this  malady?  The  man 
runs  round  a ring  formed  by  his  own  talent,  falls 
into  an  admiration  of  it,  and  loses  relation  to  the 
world.  It  is  a tendency  in  all  minds.  One  of  its 
annoying  forms  is  a craving  for  sympathy.  The 
sufferers  parade  their  miseries,  tear  the  lint  from 


CULTURE. 


129 


their  bruises,  reveal  their  indictable  crimes,  that 
you  may  pity  them.  They  like  sickness,  because 
physical  pain  will  extort  some  show  of  interest 
from  the  bystanders,  as  we  have  seen  children  who 
finding  themselves  of  no  account  when  grown  peo- 
ple come  in,  will  cough  till  they  choke,  to  draw  at- 
tention. 

This  distemper  is  the  scourge  of  talent,  — of  ar- 
tists, inventors  and  philosophers.  Eminent  spir- 
itualists shall  have  an  incapacity  of  putting  their 
act  or  word  aloof  from  them  and  seeing  it  bravely 
for  the  nothing  it  is.  Beware  of  the  man  who  says, 
“ I am  on  the  eve  of  a revelation.”  It  is  speedily 
punished,  inasmuch  as  this  habit  invites  men  to 
humor  it,  and,  by  treating  the  patient  tenderly,  to 
shut  him  up  in  a narrower  selfism  and  exclude  him 
from  the  great  world  of  God’s  cheerful  fallible  men 
and  women.  Let  us  rather  be  insulted,  whilst  we 
are  insultable.  Religious  literature  has  eminent 
examples,  and  if  we  run  over  our  private  list  of 
poets,  critics,  philanthropists  and  philosophers,  we 
shall  find  them  infected  with  this  dropsy  and  ele- 
phantiasis, which  we  ought  to  have  tapped. 

This  goitre  of  egotism  is  so  frequent  among  nota- 
ble persons  that  we  must  infer  some  strong  neces- 
sity in  nature  which  it  subserves ; such  as  we  see  in 
the  sexual  attraction.  The  preservation  of  the  spe- 
cies was  a point  of  such  necessity  that  Nature  has 

VOL.  VI.  9 


130 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


secured  it  at  all  hazards  by  immensely  overloading 
the  passion,  at  the  risk  of  perpetual  crime  and  dis- 
order. So  egotism  has  its  root  in  the  cardinal 
necessity  by  which  each  individual  persists  to  be 
what  he  is. 

This  individuality  is  not  only  not  inconsistent 
with  culture,  but  is  the  basis  of  it.  Every  valuable 
nature  is  there  in  its  own  right,  and  the  student  we 
speak  to  must  have  a motherwit  invincible  by  his 
culture,  — which  uses  all  books,  arts,  facilities,  and 
elegancies  of  intercourse,  but  is  never  subdued  and 
lost  in  them.  He  only  is  a well-made  man  who  has 
a good  determination.  And  the  end  of  culture  is 
not  to  destroy  this,  God  forbid  ! but  to  train  away 
all  impediment  and  mixture  and  leave  nothing  but 
pure  power.  Our  student  must  have  a style  and 
determination,  and  be  a master  in  his  own  specialty. 
But  having  this,  he  must  put  it  behind  him.  He 
must  have  a catholicity,  a power  to  see  with  a free 
and  disengaged  look  every  object.  Yet  is  this  pri- 
vate interest  and  self  so  overcharged  that  if  a man 
seeks  a companion  who  can  look  at  objects  for  their 
own  sake  and  without  affection  or  self-reference,  he 
will  find  the  fewest  who  will  give  him  that  satisfac- 
tion ; whilst  most  men  are  afflicted  with  a coldness, 
an  incuriosity,  as  soon  as  any  object  does  not  con- 
nect with  their  self-love.  Though  they  talk  of  the 
object  before  them,  they  are  thinking  of  themselves, 


CULTURE.  131 

and  their  vanity  is  laying  little  traps  for  your  ad- 
miration. 

But  after  a man  has  discovered  that  there  are 
limits  to  the  interest  which  his  private  history  has 
for  mankind,  he  still  converses  with  his  family,  or 
a few  companions,  — perhaps  with  half  a dozen  per- 
sonalities that  are  famous  in  his  neighborhood.  In 
Boston  the  question  of  life  is  the  names  of  some 
eight  or  ten  men.  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Allston, 
Doctor  Channing,  Mr.  Adams,  Mr.  Webster,  Mr. 
Greenough?  Have  you  heard  Everett,  Garrison, 
Father  Taylor,  Theodore  Parker  ? Have  you 
talked  with  Messieurs  Turbinewheel,  Summitlevel, 
and  Lacofrupees  ? Then  you  may  as  well  die.  In 
New  York  the  question  is  of  some  other  eight,  or 
ten,  or  twenty.  Have  you  seen  a few  lawyers, 
merchants  and  brokers,  — two  or  three  scholars, 
two  or  three  capitalists,  two  or  three  editors  of 
newspapers  ? New  York  is  a sucked  orange.  All 
conversation  is  at  an  end  when  we  have  discharged 
ourselves  of  a dozen  personalities,  domestic  or  im- 
ported, which  make  up  our  American  existence. 
Nor  do  we  expect  anybody  to  be  other  than  a faint 
copy  of  these  heroes. 

Life  is  very  narrow.  Bring  any  club  or  company 
of  intelligent  men  together  again  after  ten  years, 
and  if  the  presence  of  some  penetrating  and  calm- 
ing genius  could  dispose  them  to  frankness,  what 


132 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


a confession  of  insanities  would  come  up  ! The 
“ causes”  to  which  we  have  sacrificed,  Tariff  or 
Democracy,  Whigism  or  Abolition,  Temperance  or 
Socialism  would  show  like  roots  of  bitterness  and 
dragons  of  wrath ; and  our  talents  are  as  mis- 
chievous as  if  each  had  been  seized  upon  by  some 
bird  of  prey  which  had  whisked  him  away  from 
fortune,  from  truth,  from  the  dear  society  of  the 
poets  ; — some  zeal,  some  bias,  and  only  when  he 
was  now  gray  and  nerveless  was  it  relaxing  its 
claws  and  he  awaking  to  sober  perceptions. 

Culture  is  the  suggestion,  from  certain  best 
thoughts,  that  a man  has  a range  of  affinities 
through  which  he  can  modulate  the  violence  of  any 
master-tones  that  have  a droning  preponderance  in 
his  scale,  and  succor  him  against  himself.  Culture 
redresses  his  balance,  puts  him  among  his  equals 
and  superiors,  revives  the  delicious  sense  of  sympa- 
thy and  warns  him  of  the  dangers  of  solitude  and 
repulsion. 

It  is  not  a compliment  but  a disparagement  to 
consult  a man  only  on  horses,  or  on  steam,  or  on 
theatres,  or  on  eating,  or  on  books,  and,  whenever 
he  appears,  considerately  to  turn  the  conversation 
to  the  bantling  he  is  known  to  fondle.  In  the 
Norse  heaven  of  our  forefathers,  Thor’s  house  had 
five  hundred  and  forty  floors ; and  man’s  house  has 
five  hundred  and  forty  floors.  His  excellence  is 


CULTURE. 


183 


facility  of  adaptation  and  of  transition  through 
many  related  points,  to  wide  contrasts  and  ex- 
tremes. Culture  kills  his  exaggeration,  his  conceit 
of  his  village  or  his  city.  We  must  leave  our  pets 
at  home  when  we  go  into  the  street,  and  meet  men 
on  broad  grounds  of  good  meaning  and  good  sense. 
No  performance  is  worth  loss  of  geniality.  ’T  is 
a cruel  price  we  pay  for  certain  fancy  goods  called 
fine  arts  and  philosophy.  In  the  Norse  legend,  All- 
fadir  did  not  get  a drink  of  Mimir’s  spring  (the 
fountain  of  wisdom)  until  he  left  his  eye  in  pledge. 
And  here  is  a pedant  that  cannot  unfold  his 
wrinkles,  nor  conceal  his  wrath  at  interruption  by 
the  best,  if  their  conversation  do  not  fit  his  imper- 
tinency,  — here  is  he  to  afflict  us  with  his  person- 
alities. ’T  is  incident  to  scholars  that  each  of 
them  fancies  he  is  pointedly  odious  in  his  commu- 
nity. Draw  him  out  of  this  limbo  of  irritability. 
Cleanse  with  healthy  blood  his  parchment  skin. 
You  restore  to  him  his  eyes  which  he  left  in  pledge 
at  Mimir’s  spring.  If  you  are  the  victim  of  your 
doing,  who  cares  what  you  do?  We  can  spare 
your  opera,  your  gazetteer,  your  chemic  analysis, 
your  history,  your  syllogisms.  Your  man  of  genius 
pays  dear  for  his  distinction.  His  head  runs  up 
into  a spire,  and  instead  of  a healthy  man,  merry 
and  wise,  he  is  some  mad  dominie.  Nature  is  reck- 
less of  the  individual.  When  she  has  points  to 


134 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


carry,  she  carries  them.  To  wade  in  marshes  and 
sea-margins  is  the  destiny  of  certain  birds,  and  they 
are  so  accurately  made  for  this  that  they  are  im- 
prisoned in  those  places.  Each  animal  out  of  its 
habitat  would  starve.  To  the  physician,  each  man, 
each  woman,  is  an  amplification  of  one  organ.  A 
soldier,  a locksmith,  a bank-clerk  and  a dancer 
could  not  exchange  functions.  And  thus  we  are 
victims  of  adaptation. 

The  antidotes  against  this  organic  egotism  are 
the  range  and  variety  of  attractions,  as  gained  by 
acquaintance  with  the  world,  with  men  of  merit, 
with  classes  of  society,  with  travel,  with  eminent 
persons,  and  with  the  high  resources  of  philosophy, 
art,  and  religion  ; books,  travel,  society,  solitude. 

The  hardiest  skeptic  who  has  seen  a horse  broken, 
a pointer  trained,  or  who  has  visited  a menagerie 
or  the  exhibition  of  the  Industrious  Fleas,  will  not 
deny  the  validity  of  education.  “ A boy,”  says 
Plato,  66  is  the  most  vicious  of  all  wild  beasts ; ” 
and  in  the  same  spirit  the  old  English  poet  Gas- 
coigne says,  “ A boy  is  better  unborn  than  un- 
taught.” The  city  breeds  one  kind  of  speech  and 
manners  ; the  back  country  a different  style ; the 
sea  another  ; the  army  a fourth.  W e know  that 
an  army  which  can  be  confided  in  may  be  formed 
by  discipline ; that  by  systematic  discipline  all  men 
may  be  made  heroes : Marshal  Lannes  said  to  a 


CULTURE. 


135 


French  officer,  “ Know,  Colonel,  that  none  but  a 
poltroon  will  boast  that  he  never  was  afraid.”  A 
great  part  of  courage  is  the  courage  of  having  done 
the  thing  before.  And  in  all  human  action  those 
faculties  will  be  strong  which  are  used.  Robert 
Owen  said,  “ Give  me  a tiger,  and  I will  educate 
him.”  ’T  is  inhuman  to  want  faith  in  the  power 
of  education,  since  to  meliorate  is  the  law  of  na- 
ture ; and  men  are  valued  precisely  as  they  exert 
onward  or  meliorating  force.  On  the  other  hand, 
poltroonery  is*  the  acknowledging  an  inferiority  to 
be  incurable. 

Incapacity  of  melioration  is  the  only  mortal  dis- 
temper. There  are  people  who  can  never  under- 
stand a trope  or  any  second  or  expanded  sense 
given  to  your  words,  or  any  humor ; but  remain 
literalisfcs,  after  hearing  the  music  and  poetry  and 
rhetoric  and  wit  of  seventy  or  eighty  years.  They 
are  past  the  help  of  surgeon  or  clergy.  But  even 
these  can  understand  pitchforks  and  the  cry  of 
Fire ! and  I have  noticed  in  some  of  this  class  a 
marked  dislike  of  earthquakes. 

Let  us  make  our  education  brave  and  preventive. 
Politics  is  an  after-work,  a poor  patching.  We 
are  always  a little  late.  The  evil  is  done,  the  law 
is  passed,  and  we  begin  the  up-hill  agitation  for 
repeal  of  that  of  which  we  ought  to  have  prevented 
the  enacting.  We  shall  one  day  learn  to  supersede 


136 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


politics  by  education.  What  we  call  our  root-and- 
branch  reforms,  of  slavery,  war,  gambling,  intem- 
perance, is  only  medicating  the  symptoms.  We 
must  begin  higher  up,  namely  in  Education. 

Our  arts  and  tools  give  to  him  who  can  handle 
them  much  the  same  advantage  over  the  novice  as 
if  you  extended  his  life,  ten,  fifty,  or  a hundred 
years.  And  I think  it  the  part  of  good  sense  to 
provide  every  fine  soul  with  such  culture  that  it 
shall  not,  at  thirty  or  forty  years,  have  to  say 
6 This  which  I might  do  is  made  hopeless  through 
my  want  of  weapons.’ 

But  it  is  conceded  that  much  of  our  training 
fails  of  effect ; that  all  success  is  hazardous  and 
rare ; that  a large  part  of  our  cost  and  pains  is 
thrown  away.  Nature  takes  the  matter  into  her 
own  hands,  and  though  we  must  not  omit  any  jot 
of  our  system,  we  can  seldom  be  sure  that  it  has 
availed  much,  or  that  as  much  good  would  not 
have  accrued  from  a different  system. 

Books,  as  containing  the  finest  records  of  human 
wit,  must  always  enter  into  our  notion  of  culture. 
The  best  heads  that  ever  existed,  Pericles,  Plato, 
Julius  Caesar,  Shakspeare,  Goethe,  Milton,  were 
well-read,  universally  educated  men,  and  quite  too 
wise  to  undervalue  letters.  Their  opinion  has 
weight,  because  they  had  means  of  knowing  the  op- 
posite opinion.  We  look  that  a great  man  should 


CULTURE . 


137 


be  a good  reader,  or  in  proportion  to  the  spontane- 
ous power  should  be  the  assimilating  power.  Good 
criticism  is  very  rare  and  always  precious.  I am 
always  happy  to  meet  persons  who  perceive  the 
transcendent  superiority  of  Sliakspeare  over  all 
other  writers.  I like  people  who  like  Plato.  Be- 
cause this  love  does  not  consist  with  self-conceit. 

But  books  are  good  only  as  far  as  a boy  is  ready 
for  them.  He  sometimes  gets  ready  very  slowly. 
You  send  your  child  to  the  schoolmaster,  but  ?tis 
the  schoolboys  who  educate  him.  You  send  him 
to  the  Latin  class,  but  much  of  his  tuition  comes, 
on  his  way  to  school,  from  the  shop-windows.  You 
like  the  strict  rules  and  the  long  terms  ; and  he 
finds  his  best  leading  in  a by-way  of  his  own,  and 
refuses  any  companions  but  of  his  choosing.  He 
hates  the  grammar  and  Gradus , and  loves  guns, 
fishing-rods,  horses,  and  boats.  Well,  the  boy 
is  right,  and  you  are  not  fit  to  direct  his  bringing- 
up  if  your  theory  leaves  out  his  gymnastic  train- 
ing. Archery,  cricket,  gun  and  fishing-rod,  horse 
and  boat,  are  all  educators,  liberalizers ; and  so  are 
dancing,  dress,  and  the  street-talk;  and  provided 
only  the  boy  has  resources,  and  is  of  a noble  and 
ingenuous  strain,  these  will  not  serve  him  less  than 
the  books.  He  learns  chess,  whist,  dancing  and 
theatricals.  The  father  observes  that  another  boy 
has  learned  algebra  and  geometry  in  the  same  time. 


138 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


But  the  first  boy  has  acquired  much  more  than 
these  poor  games  along  with  them.  He  is  infatu- 
ated for  weeks  with  whist  and  chess ; but  presently 
will  find  out,  as  you  did,  that  when  he  rises  from 
the  game  too  long  played,  he  is  vacant  and  forlorn 
and  despises  himself.  Thenceforward  it  takes 
place  with  other  things,  and  has  its  due  weight  in 
his  experience.  These  minor  skills  and  accom- 
plishments, for  example  dancing,  are  tickets  of 
admission  to  the  dress-circle  of  mankind,  and  the 
being  master  of  them  enables  the  youth  to  judge 
intelligently  of  much  on  which  otherwise  he  would 
give  a pedantic  squint.  Landor  said,  “ I have  suf- 
fered more  from  my  bad  dancing  than  from  all  the 
misfortunes  and  miseries  of  my  life  put  together.” 
Provided  always  the  boy  is  teachable  (for  we  are 
not  proposing  to  make  a statue  out  of  punk),  foot- 
ball, cricket,  archery,  swimming,  skating,  climb- 
ing, fencing,  riding,  are  lessons  in  the  art  of  power, 
which  it  is  his  main  business  to  learn ; — riding, 
specially,  of  which  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury  said, 
“ A good  rider  on  a good  horse  is  as  much  above 
himself  and  others  as  the  world  can  make  him.” 
Besides,  the  gun,  fishing-rod,  boat,  and  horse,  con- 
stitute, among  all  who  use  them,  secret  freemason- 
ries.  They  are  as  if  they  belonged  to  one  club. 

There  is  also  a negative  value  in  these  arts. 
Their  chief  use  to  the  youth  is  not  amusement, 


CULTURE. 


139 


but  to  be  known  for  what  they  are,  and  not  to  re- 
main to  him  occasions  of  heart-burn.  We  are 
full  of  superstitions.  Each  class  fixes  its  eyes  on 
the  advantages  it  has  not  ; the  refined,  on  rude 
strength ; the  democrat,  on  birth  and  breeding. 
One  of  the  benefits  of  a college  education  is  to 
show  the  boy  its  little  avail.  I knew  a leading 
man  in  a leading  city,  who,  having  set  his  heart 
on  an  education  at  the  university  and  missed  it, 
could  never  quite  feel  himself  the  equal  of  his  own 
brothers  who  had  gone  thither.  His  easy  superi- 
ority to  multitudes  of  professional  men  could  never 
quite  countervail  to  him  this  imaginary  defect. 
Balls,  riding,  wine-parties  and  billiards  pass  to  a 
poor  boy  for  something  fine  and  romantic,  which 
they  are  not ; and  a free  admission  to  them  on  an 
equal  footing,  if  it  were  possible,  only  once  or 
twice,  would  be  worth  ten  times  its  cost,  by  unde- 
ceiving him. 

I am  not  much  an  advocate  for  travelling,  and  I 
observe  that  men  run  away  to  other  countries  be- 
cause they  are  not  good  in  their  own,  and  run  back 
to  their  own  because  they  pass  for  nothing  in  the 
new  places.  For  the  most  part,  only  the  light  char- 
acters travel.  Who  are  you  that  have  no  task  to 
keep  you  at  home?  I have  been  quoted  as  saying 
captious  things  about  travel ; but  I mean  to  do  jus- 
tice. I think  there  is  a restlessness  in  our  people 


140 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


which  argues  want  of  character.  All  educated 
Americans,  first  or  last,  go  to  Europe ; perhaps  be- 
cause it  is  their  mental  home,  as  the  invalid  habits 
of  this  country  might  suggest.  An  eminent  teacher 
of  girls  said,  64  the  idea  of  a girl’s  education  is, 
whatever  qualifies  her  for  going  to  Europe.”  Can 
we  never  extract  this  tape-worm  of  Europe  from  the 
brain  of  our  countrymen  ? One  sees  very  well  what 
their  fate  must  be.  He  that  does  not  fill  a place  at 
home,  cannot  abroad.  He  only  goes  there  to  hide 
his  insignificance  in  a larger  crowd.  You  do  not 
think  you  will  find  anything  there  which  you  have 
not  seen  at  home  ? The  stuff  of  all  countries  is  just 
the  same.  Do  you  suppose  there  is  any  country 
where  they  do  not  scald  milk-pans,  and  swaddle  the 
infants,  and  burn  the  brushwood,  and  broil  the  fish  ? 
What  is  true  anywhere  is  true  everywhere.  And 
let  him  go  where  he  will,  he  can  only  find  so  much 
beauty  or  worth  as  he  carries. 

Of  course,  for  some  men,  travel  may  be  useful. 
Naturalists,  discoverers,  and  sailors  are  born.  Some 
men  are  made  for  couriers,  exchangers,  envoys,  mis- 
sionaries, bearers  of  despatches,  as  others  are  for 
farmers  and  working-men.  And  if  the  man  is  of  a 
light  and  social  turn,  and  Nature  has  aimed  to  make 
a legged  and  winged  creature,  framed  for  locomo- 
tion, we  must  follow  her  hint  and  furnish  him  with 
that  breeding  which  gives  currency,  as  sedulously 


CULTURE. 


141 


as  with  that  which  gives  worth.  But  let  us  not 
be  pedantic,  but  allow  to  travel  its  full  effect.  The 
boy  grown  up  on  a farm,  which  he  has  never  left, 
is  said  in  the  country  to  have  had  no  chance,  and 
boys  and  men  of  that  condition  look  upon  work 
on  a railroad,  or  drudgery  in  a city,  as  opportunity. 
Poor  country  boys  of  Vermont  and  Connecticut 
formerly  owed  what  knowledge  they  had  to  their 
peddling  trips  to  the  Southern  States.  California 
and  the  Pacific  Coast  is  now  the  university  of  this 
class,  as  Virginia  was  in  old  times.  4 To  have  some 
,i chance ’ is  their  word.  And  the  phrase  4 to  know 
the  world,’  or  to  travel,  is  synonymous  with  all 
men’s  ideas  of  advantage  and  superiority.  No 
doubt,  to  a man  of  sense,  travel  offers  advantages. 
As  many  languages  as  he  has,  as  many  friends,  as 
many  arts  and  trades,  so  many  times  is  he  a man. 
A foreign  country  is  a point  of  comparison  where- 
from to  judge  his  own.  One  use  of  travel  is  to 
recommend  the  books  and  works  of  home,  — we 
go  to  Europe  to  be  Americanized;  and  another,  to 
find  men.  For  as  Nature  has  put  fruits  apart  in 
latitudes,  a new  fruit  in  every  degree,  so  knowledge 
and  fine  moral  quality  she  lodges  in  distant  men. 
And  thus,  of  the  six  or  seven  teachers  whom  each 
man  wants  among  his  contemporaries,  it  often  hap- 
pens that  one  or  two  of  them  live  on  the  other  side 
of  the  world. 


142 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


Moreover,  there  is  in  every  constitution  a certain 
solstice  when  the  stars  stand  still  in  our  inward 
firmament,  and  when  there  is  required  some  foreign 
force,  some  diversion  or  alterative  to  prevent  stag- 
nation. And,  as  a medical  remedy,  travel  seems 
one  of  the  best.  Just  as  a man  witnessing  the  ad- 
mirable effect  of  ether  to  lull  pain,  and  meditating 
on  the  contingencies  of  wounds,  cancers,  lockjaws, 
rejoices  in  Dr.  Jackson’s  benign  discovery,  so  a 
man  who  looks  at  Paris,  at  Naples,  or  at  London, 
says,  6 If  I should  be  driven  from  my  own  home, 
here  at  least  my  thoughts  can  be  consoled  by  the 
most  prodigal  amusement  and  occupation  which 
the  human  race  in  ages  could  contrive  and  accumu- 
late.’ 

Akin  to  the  benefit  of  foreign  travel,  the  aesthetic 
value  of  railroads  is  to  unite  the  advantages  of  town 
and  country  life,  neither  of  which  we  can  spare. 
A man  should  live  in  or  near  a large  town,  because, 
let  his  own  genius  be  what  it  may,  it  will  repel 
quite  as  much  of  agreeable  and  valuable  talent  as  it 
draws,  and,  in  a city,  the  total  attraction  of  all  the 
citizens  is  sure  to  conquer,  first  or  last,  every  repul- 
sion, and  drag  the  most  improbable  hermit  within 
its  walls  some  day  in  the  year.  In  town  he  can 
find  the  swimming  - school,  the  gymnasium,  the 
dancing-master,  the  shooting-gallery,  opera,  theatre, 
and  panorama ; the  chemist’s  shop,  the  museum  of 


CULTURE. 


143 


natural  history ; the  gallery  of  fine  arts  ; the  na- 
tional orators,  in  their  turn  ; foreign  travellers,  the 
libraries  ancl  his  club.  In  the  country  he  can  find 
solitude  and  reading,  manly  labor,  cheap  living,  and 
his  old  shoes  ; moors  for  game,  hills  for  geology 
and  groves  for  devotion.  Aubrey  writes,  “ I have 
heard  Thomas  Hobbes  say,  that,  in  the  Earl  of 
Devon’s  house,  in  Derbyshire,  there  was  a good 
library  and  books  enough  for  him,  and  his  lordship 
stored  the  library  with  what  books  he  thought  fit 
to  be  bought.  But  the  want  of  good  conversation 
was  a very  great  inconvenience,  and,  though  he 
conceived  he  could  order  his  thinking  as  well  as 
another,  yet  he  found  a great  defect.  In  the  coun- 
try, in  long  time,  for  want  of  good  conversation, 
one’s  understanding  and  invention  contract  a moss 
on  them,  like  an  old  paling  in  an  orchard.” 

Cities  give  us  collision.  It  is  said,  London  and 
New  York  take  the  nonsense  out  of  a man.  A 
great  part  of  our  education  is  sympathetic  and  so- 
cial. Boys  and  girls  who  have  been  brought  up 
with  well-informed  and  superior  people  show  in 
their  manners  an  inestimable  grace.  Fuller  says 
that  46  William,  Earl  of  Nassau,  won  a subject 
from  the  King  of  Spain,  every  time  he  put  off  his 
hat.”  You  cannot  have  one  well-bred  man  without 
a whole  society  of  such.  They  keep  each  other  up 
to  any  high  point.  Especially  women  ; it  requires 


144 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


a great  many  cultivated  women,  — saloons  of  bright, 
elegant,  reading  women,  accustomed  to  ease  and  re- 
finement, to  spectacles,  pictures,  sculpture,  poetry, 
and  to  elegant  society,  — in  order  that  you  should 
have  one  Madame  de  Stael.  The  head  of  a com- 
mercial house  or  a leading  lawyer  or  politician  is 
brought  into  daily  contact  with  troops  of  men  from 
all  parts  of  the  country,  and  those  too  the  driving- 
wheels,  the  business  men  of  each  section,  and  one 
can  hardly  suggest  for  an  apprehensive  man  a more 
searching  culture.  Besides,  we  must  remember  the 
high  social  possibilities  of  a million  of  men.  The 
best  bribe  which  London  offers  to-day  to  the  im- 
agination is  that  in  such  a vast  variety  of  people 
and  conditions  one  can  believe  there  is  room  for 
persons  of  romantic  character  to  exist,  and  that  the 
poet,  the  mystic  and  the  hero  may  hope  to  confront 
their  counterparts. 

I wish  cities  could  teach  their  best  lesson,  — of 
quiet  manners.  It  is  the  foible  especially  of  Amer- 
ican youth,  — pretension.  The  mark  of  the  man 
of  the  world  is  absence  of  pretension.  He  does 
not  make  a speech,  he  takes  a low  business-tone, 
avoids  all  brag,  is  nobody,  dresses  plainly,  promises 
not  at  all,  performs  much,  speaks  in  monosyllables, 
hugs  his  fact.  He  calls  his  employment  by  its 
lowest  name,  and  so  takes  from  evil  tongues  their 
sharpest  weapon.  His  conversation  clings  to  the 


CULTURE. 


145 


weather  and  the  news,  yet  he  allows  himself  to  he 
surprised  into  thought  and  the  unlocking  of  his 
learning  and  philosophy.  How  the  imagination  is 
piqued  by  anecdotes  of  some  great  man  passing  in- 
cognito, as  a king  in  gray  clothes ; of  Napoleon 
affecting  a plain  suit  at  his  glittering  levee ; of 
Burns  or  Scott  or  Beethoven  or  Wellington  or 
Goethe,  or  any  container  of  transcendent  power, 
passing  for  nobody ; of  Epaminondas,  “ who  never 
says  anything, but  will  listen  eternally;”  of  Goethe, 
who  preferred  trifling  subjects  and  common  expres- 
sions in  intercourse  with  strangers,  worse  rather 
than  better  clothes,  and  to  appear  a little  more  ca- 
pricious than  he  was.  There  are  advantages  in  the 
old  hat  and  box-coat.  I have  heard  that  through- 
out this  country  a certain  respect  is  paid  to  good 
broadcloth ; but  dress  makes  a little  restraint ; men 
will  not  commit  themselves.  But  the  box-coat  is 
like  wine,  it  unlocks  the  tongue,  and  men  say  what 
they  think.  An  old  poet  says,  — 

“ Go  far  and  go  sparing, 

For  you’ll  find  it  certain, 

Tlie  poorer  and  the  baser  you  appear, 

The  more  you’ll  look  through  still.”  1 

Not  much  otherwise  Milnes  writes  in  the  “ Lay  of 
the  Humble,”  — 

1 Beaumont  and  Fletcher  : The  Tamer  Tamed . 

10 


VOL.  VI. 


146 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


“ To  me  men  are  for  what  they  are, 

They  wear  no  masks  with  me.” 

It  is  odd  that  our  people  should  have  — not  water 
on  the  brain,  but  a little  gas  there.  A shrewd  for- 
eigner said  of  the  Americans  that  “ whatever  they 
say  has  a little  the  air  of  a speech. 55  Yet  one  of 
the  traits  down  in  the  books  as  distinguishing  the 
Anglo-Saxon  is  a trick  of  self-disparagement.  To 
be  sure,  in  old,  dense  countries,  among  a million  of 
good  coats  a fine  coat  comes  to  be  no  distinction, 
and  you  find  humorists.  In  an  English  party  a 
man  with  no  marked  manners  or  features,  with  a 
face  like  red  dough,  unexpectedly  discloses  wit, 
learning,  a wide  range  of  topics  and  personal  fa- 
miliarity with  good  men  in  all  parts  of  the  world, 
until  you  think  you  have  fallen  upon  some  illus- 
trious personage.  Can  it  be  that  the  American 
forest  has  refreshed  some  weeds  of  old  Pictish  bar- 
barism just  ready  to  die  out,  — the  love  of  the 
scarlet  feather,  of  beads  and  tinsel  ? The  Italians 
are  fond  of  red  clothes,  peacock  plumes  and  em- 
broidery; and  I remember  one  rainy  morning  in 
the  city  of  Palermo  the  street  was  in  a blaze  with 
scarlet  umbrellas.  The  English  have  a plain  taste. 
The  equipages  of  the  grandees  are  plain.  A gor- 
geous livery  indicates  new  and  awkward  city  wealth. 
Mr.  Pitt,  like  Mr.  Pym,  thought  the  title  of  Mister 
good  against  any  king  in  Europe.  They  have 


CULTURE . 


147 


piqued  themselves  on  governing  the  whole  world 
in  the  poor,  plain,  dark  Committee-room  which  the 
House  of  Commons  sat  in,  before  the  fire. 

Whilst  we  want  cities  as  the  centres  where  the 
best  things  are  found,  cities  degrade  us  by  magnify- 
ing trifles.  The  countryman  finds  the  town  a chop- 
house,  a barber’s  shop.  He  has  lost  the  lines  of 
grandeur  of  the  horizon,  hills,  and  plains,  and  with 
them  sobriety  and  elevation.  He  has  come  among 
a supple,  glib-tongued  tribe,  who  live  for  show,  ser- 
vile to  public  opinion.  Life  is  dragged  down  to 
a fracas  of  pitiful  cares  and  disasters.  You  say 
the  gods  ought  to  respect  a life  whose  objects  are 
their  own ; but  in  cities  they  have  betrayed  you  to 
a cloud  of  insignificant  annoyances  : — 

“ Mirmidons,  race  feconde, 

Mirmidons, 

Enfin  nous  commandons  : 

Jupiter  livre  le  monde 

Aux  mirmidons,  aux  mirmidons.”  1 

?T  is  heavy  odds 
Against  the  gods, 

When  they  will  match  with  myrmidons. 

We  spawning,  spawning  myrmidons, 

Our  turn  to-day  ! we  take  command, 

Jove  gives  the  globe  into  the  hand 
Of  myrmidons,  of  myrmidons. 


1 Bdranger. 


148 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


What  is  odious  but  noise,  and  people  who  scream 
and  bewail  ? people  whose  vane  points  always  east, 
who  live  to  dine,  who  send  for  the  doctor,  who 
coddle  themselves,  who  toast  their  feet  on  the  reg- 
ister, who  intrigue  to  secure  a padded  chair  and  a 
corner  out  of  the  draught.  Suffer  them  once  to 
begin  the  enumeration  of  their  infirmities  and  the 
sun  will  go  down  on  the  unfinished  tale.  Let 
these  triflers  put  us  out  of  conceit  with  petty  com- 
forts. To  a man  at  work,  the  frost  is  but  a color ; 
the  rain,  the  wind,  he  .forgot  them  when  he  came  in. 
Let  us  learn  to  live  coarsely,  dress  plainly,  and  lie 
hard.  The  least  habit  of  dominion  over  the  palate 
has  certain  good  effects  not  easily  estimated.  Nei- 
ther will  we  be  driven  into  a quiddling  abstemious- 
ness. 9T  is  a superstition  to  insist  on  a special  diet. 
All  is  made  at  last  of  the  same  chemical  atoms. 

A man  in  pursuit  of  greatness  feels  no  little 
wants.  How  can  you  mind  diet,  bed,  dress,  or 
salutes  or  compliments,  or  the  figure  you  make  in 
company,  or  wealth,  or  even  the  bringing  things 
to  pass,  — when  you  think  how  paltry  are  the 
machinery  and  the  workers?  Wordsworth  was 
praised  to  me  in  Westmoreland  for  having  af- 
forded to  his  country  neighbors  an  example  of  a 
modest  household  where  comfort  and  culture  were 
secured  without  display.  And  a tender  boy  who 
wears  his  rusty  cap  and  outgrown  coat,  that  he 


CULTURE. 


149 


may  secure  the  coveted  place  in  college  and  the 
right  in  the  library,  is  educated  to  some  purpose. 
There  is  a great  deal  of  self-denial  and  manliness 
in  poor  and  middle-class  houses  in  town  and  coun- 
try, that  has  not  got  into  literature  and  never  will, 
but  that  keeps  the  earth  sweet ; that  saves  on  su- 
perfluities, and  spends  on  essentials ; that  goes 
rusty  and  educates  the  boy ; that  sells  the  horse 
but  builds  the  school ; works  early  and  late,  takes 
two  looms  in  the  factory,  three  looms,  six  looms, 
but  pays  off  the  mortgage  on  the  paternal  farm, 
and  then  goes  back  cheerfully  to  work  again. 

W e can  ill  spare  the  commanding  social  benefits 
of  cities ; they  must  be  used,  yet  cautiously  and 
haughtily,  — and  will  yield  their  best  values  to 
him  who  best  can  do  without  them.  Keep  the 
town  for  occasions,  but  the  habits  should  be  formed 
to  retirement.  Solitude,  the  safeguard  of  medioc- 
rity, is,  to  genius,  the  stern  friend,  the  cold,  obscure 
shelter  where  moult  the  wings  which  will  bear  it 
farther  than  suns  and  stars.  He  who  should  inspire 
and  lead  his  race  must  be  defended  from  travel- 
ling with  the  souls  of  other  men,  from  living, 
breathing,  reading  and  writing  in  the  daily,  time- 
worn yoke  of  their  opinions.  “ In  the  morning,  — 
solitude  ; ” said  Pythagoras  ; that  Nature  may 
speak  to  the  imagination,  as  she  does  never  in 
company,  and  that  her  favorite  may  make  ac- 


150 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


quaintance  with  those  divine  strengths  which  dis- 
close themselves  to  serious  and  abstracted  thought. 
5T  is  very  certain  that  Plato,  Plotinus,  Archimedes, 
Hermes,  Newton,  Milton,  Wordsworth,  did  not 
live  in  a crowd,  but  descended  into  it  from  time  to 
time  as  benefactors ; and  the  wise  instructor  will 
press  this  point  of  securing  to  the  young  soul  in 
the  disposition  of  time  and  the  arrangements  of 
living,  periods  and  habits  of  solitude.  The  high 
advantage  of  university  life  is  often  the  mere  me- 
chanical one,  I may  call  it,  of  a separate  chamber 
and  fire,  — which  parents  will  allow  the  boy  with- 
out hesitation  at  Cambridge,  but  do  not  think 
needful  at  home.  We  say  solitude,  to  mark  the 
character  of  the  tone  of  thought ; but  if  it  can  be 
shared  between  two  or  more  than  two,  it  is  happier 
and  not  less  noble.  “ We  four,”  wrote  Neander  to 
his  sacred  friends,  “ will  enjoy  at  Halle  the  inward 
blessedness  of  a civitas  Dei , whose  foundations  are 
forever  friendship.  The  more  I know  you,  the 
more  I dissatisfy  and  must  dissatisfy  all  my  wonted 
companions.  Their  very  presence  stupefies  me. 
The  common  understanding  withdraws  itself  from 
the  one  centre  of  all  existence.” 

Solitude  takes  off  the  pressure  of  present  impor- 
tunities, that  more  catholic  and  humane  relations 
may  appear.  The  saint  and  poet  seek  privacy  to 
ends  the  most  public  and  universal,  and  it  is  the 


CULTURE . 151 

secret  of  culture  to  interest  the  man  more  in  his 
public  than  in  his  private  quality.  Here  is  a new 
poem,  which  elicits  a good  many  comments  in  the 
journals  and  in  conversation.  From  these  it  is 
easy  at  last  to  gather  the  verdict  which  readers 
passed  upon  it ; and  that  is,  in  the  main,  unfavor- 
able. The  poet,  as  a craftsman,  is  only  interested 
in  the  praise  accorded  to  him,  and  not  in  the  cen- 
sure, though  it  be  just.  And  the  poor  little  poet 
hearkens  only  to  that,  and  rejects  the  censure  as 
proving  incapacity  in  the  critic.  But  the  poet  cul- 
tivated becomes  a stockholder  in  both  companies, 
— say  Mr.  Curfew  in  the  Curfew  stock,  and  in  the 
humanity  stock ; — and,  in  the  last,  exults  as  much 
in  the  demonstration  of  the  unsoundness  of  Curfew, 
as  his  interest  in  the  former  gives  him  pleasure  in 
the  currency  of  Curfew.  For  the  depreciation  of 
his  Curfew  stock  only  shows  the  immense  values 
of  the  humanity  stock.  As  soon  as  he  sides  with 
his  critic  against  himself,  with  joy,  he  is  a culti- 
vated man. 

We  must  have  an  intellectual  quality  in  all  prop- 
erty and  in  all  action,  or  they  are  naught.  I must 
have  children,  I must  have  events,  I must  have  a 
social  state  and  history,  or  my  thinking  and  speak- 
ing want  body  or  basis.  But  to  give  these  acces- 
sories any  value,  I must  know  them  as  contingent 
and  rather  showy  possessions,  which  pass  for  more 


152 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


to  the  people  than  to  me.  We  see  this  abstraction 
in  scholars,  as  a matter  of  course  ; but  what  a charm 
it  adds  when  observed  in  practical  men.  Bona- 
parte, like  Caesar,  was  intellectual,  and  could  look 
at  every  object  for  itself,  without  affection.  Though 
an  egotist  a outrance , he  could  criticize  a play,  a 
building,  a character,  on  universal  grounds,  and 
give  a just  opinion.  A man  known  to  us  only  as 
a celebrity  in  politics  or  in  trade  gains  largely  in 
our  esteem  if  we  discover  that  he  has  some  intel- 
lectual taste  or  skill ; as  when  we  learn  of  Lord 
Fairfax,  the  Long  Parliament’s  general,  his  pas- 
sion for  antiquarian  studies ; or  of  the  French  reg- 
icide Carnot,  his  sublime  genius  in  mathematics ; 
or  of  a living  banker,  his  success  in  poetry ; or  of 
a partisan  journalist,  his  devotion  to  ornithology. 
So,  if  in  travelling  in  the  dreary  wildernesses  of 
Arkansas  or  Texas  we  should  observe  on  the  next 
seat  a man  reading  Horace,  or  Martial,  or  Cal- 
deron, we  should  wish  to  hug  him. 

We  only  vary  the  phrase,  not  the  doctrine,  when 
we  say  that  culture  opens  the  sense  of  beauty. 
A man  is  a beggar  who  only  lives  to  the  useful, 
and  however  he  may  serve  as  a pin  or  rivet  in  the 
social  machine,  cannot  be  said  to  have  arrived  at 
self-possession.  I suffer  every  day  from  the  want 
of  perception  of  beauty  in  people.  They  do  not 
know  the  charm  with  which  all  moments  and  ob« 


CULTURE . 


153 


jects  can  be  embellished,  the  charm  of  manners,  of 
self-command,  of  benevolence.  Repose  and  cheer- 
fulness are  the  badge  of  the  gentleman,  — repose 
in  energy.  The  Greek  battle-pieces  are  calm  ; the 
heroes,  in  whatever  violent  actions  engaged,  retain 
a serene  aspect ; as  we  say  of  Niagara  that  it  falls 
without  speed.  A cheerful  intelligent  face  is  the 
end  of  culture,  and  success  enough.  For  it  indi- 
cates the  purpose  of  Nature  and  wisdom  attained. 

When  our  higher  faculties  are  in  activity  we  are 
domesticated,  and  awkwardness  and  discomfort  give 
place  to  natural  and  agreeable  movements.  It  is 
noticed  that  the  consideration  of  the  great  periods 
and  spaces  of  astronomy  induces  a dignity  of  mind 
and  an  indifference  to  death.  The  influence  of  fine 
scenery,  the  presence  of  mountains,  appeases  our 
irritations  and  elevates  our  friendships.  Even  a 
high  dome,  and  the  expansive  interior  of  a cathe- 
dral, have  a sensible  effect  on  manners.  I have 
heard  that  stiff  people  lose  something  of  their  awk- 
wardness under  high  ceilings  and  in  spacious  halls. 
I think  sculpture  and  painting  have  an  effect  to 
teach  us  manners  and  abolish  hurry. 

But,  over  all,  culture  must  reinforce  from  higher 
influx  the  empirical  skills  of  eloquence,  or  of  poli- 
tics, or  of  trade  and  the  useful  arts.  There  is  a 
certain  loftiness  of  thought  and  power  to  marshal 
and  adjust  particulars,  which  can  only  come  from 


154 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


an  insight  of  their  whole  connection.  The  orator 
who  has  once  seen  things  in  their  divine  order  will 
never  quite  lose  sight  of  this,  and  will  come  to 
affairs  as  from  a higher  ground,  and  though  he  will 
say  nothing  of  philosophy,  he  will  have  a certain 
mastery  in  dealing  with  them,  and  an  incapableness 
of  being  dazzled  or  frighted,  which  will  distinguish 
his  handling  from  that  of  attorneys  and  factors. 
A man  who  stands  on  a good  footing  with  the 
heads  of  parties  at  Washington,  reads  the  rumors 
of  the  newspapers  and  the  guesses  of  provincial 
politicians  with  a key  to  the  right  and  wrong  in 
each  statement,  and  sees  well  enough  where  all  this 
will  end.  Archimedes  will  look  through  your  Con- 
necticut machine  at  a glance,  and  judge  of  its  fit- 
ness. And  much  more  a wise  man  who  knows  not 
only  what  Plato,  but  what  Saint  John  can  show 
him,  can  easily  raise  the  affair  he  deals  with  to  a 
certain  majesty.  Plato  says  Pericles  owed  this 
elevation  to  the  lessons  of  Anaxagoras.  Burke 
descended  from  a higher  sphere  when  he  would  in- 
fluence human  affairs.  Franklin,  Adams,  Jeffer- 
son, Washington,  stood  on  a fine  humanity,  before 
which  the  brawls  of  modern  senates  are  but  pot- 
house politics. 

But  there  are  higher  secrets  of  culture,  which  are 
not  for  the  apprentices  but  for  proficients.  These 
are  lessons  only  for  the  brave.  We  must  know  our 


CULTURE. 


155 


friends  under  ugly  masks.  The  calamities  are  our 
friends.  Ben  Jonson  specifies  in  his  address  to  the 
Muse : — 

“ Get  him  the  time’s  long  grudge,  the  court’s  ill-will, 
And,  reconciled,  keep  him  suspected  still, 

Make  him  lose  all  his  friends,  and,  what  is  worse, 
Almost  all  ways  to  any  better  course  ; 

With  me  thou  leav’st  a better  Muse  than  thee, 

And  which  thou  brought’st  me,  blessed  Poverty.” 

We  wisli  to  learn  philosophy  by  rote,  and  play  at 
heroism.  But  the  wiser  God  says,  Take  the  shame, 
the  poverty  and  the  penal  solitude  that  belong  to 
truth-speaking.  Try  the  rough  water  as  well  as 
the  smooth.  Bough  water  can  teach  lessons  worth 
knowing.  * When  the  state  is  unquiet,  personal 
qualities  are  more  than  ever  decisive.  Fear  not  a 
revolution  which  will  constrain  you  to  live  five 
years  in  one.  Don’t  be  so  tender  at  making  an 
enemy  now  and  then.  Be  willing  to  go  to  Coven- 
try sometimes,  and  let  the  populace  bestow  on  you 
their  coldest  contempts.  The  finished  man  of  the 
world  must  eat  of  every  apple  once.  He  must  hold 
his  hatreds  also  at  arm’s  length,  and  not  remember 
spite.  He  has  neither  friends  nor  enemies,  but 
values  men  only  as  channels  of  power. 

He  who  aims  high  must  dread  an  easy  home  and 
popular  manners.  Heaven  sometimes  hedges  a rare 
character  about  with  ungainliness  and  odium,  as 


156 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


the  burr  that  protects  the  fruit.  If  there  is  any 
great  and  good  thing  in  store  for  you,  it  will  not 
come  at  the  first  or  the  second  call,  nor  in  the  shape 
of  fashion,  ease,  and  city  drawing-rooms.  Popu- 
larity is  for  dolls.  “ Steep  and  craggy,”  said  Por- 
phyry, “is  the  path  of  the  gods.”  Open  your  Mar- 
cus Antoninus.  In  the  opinion  of  the  ancients  he 
was  the  great  man  who  scorned  to  shine,  and  who 
contested  the  frowns  of  fortune.  They  preferred 
the  noble  vessel  too  late  for  the  tide,  contending 
with  winds  and  waves,  dismantled  and  unrigged,  to 
her  companion  borne  into  harbor  with  colors  flying 
and  guns  firing.  There  is  none  of  the  social  goods 
that  may  not  be  purchased  too  dear,  and  mere  ami- 
ableness must  not  take  rank  with  high  aims  and 
self-subsistency. 

Bettine  replies  to  Goethe’s  mother,  who  chides 
her  disregard  of  dress,  — “If  I cannot  do  as  I have 
a mind  in  our  poor  Frankfort,  I shall  not  carry 
things  far.”  And  the  youth  must  rate  at  its  true 
mark  the  inconceivable  levity  of  local  opinion. 
The  longer  we  live  the  more  we  must  endure  the 
elementary  existence  of  men  and  women ; and 
every  brave  heart  must  treat  society  as  a child,  and 
never  allow  it  to  dictate. 

“ All  that  class  of  the  severe  and  restrictive  vir- 
tues,” said  Burke,  “ are  almost  too  costly  for  hu- 
manity.” Who  wishes  to  be  severe  ? Who  wishes 


CULTURE. 


157 


to  resist  the  eminent  and  polite,  in  behalf  of  the 
poor,  and  low,  and  impolite  ? And  who  that  dares 
do  it  can  keep  his  temper  sweet,  Ins  frolic  spirits  ? 
The  high  virtues  are  not  debonair,  but  have  their 
redress  in  being  illustrious  at  last.  What  forests 
of  laurel  we  bring,  and  the  tears  of  mankind,  to 
those  who  stood  firm  against  the  opinion  of  their 
contemporaries ! The  measure  of  a master  is  his 
success  in  bringing  all  men  round  to  his  opinion 
twenty  years  later. 

Let  me  say  here,  that  culture  cannot  begin  too 
early.  In  talking  with  scholars  I observe  that  they 
lost  on  ruder  companions  those  years  of  boyhood 
which  alone  could  give  imaginative  literature  a re- 
ligious and  infinite  quality  in  their  esteem.  I find 
too  that  the  chance  for  appreciation  is  much  in- 
creased by  being  the  son  of  an  appreciator,  and  that 
these  boys  who  now  grow  up  are  caught  not  only 
years  too  late,  but  two  or  three  births  too  late,  to 
make  the  best  scholars  of.  And  I think  it  a pre- 
sentable motive  to  a scholar,  that,  as  in  an  old  com- 
munity a well-born  proprietor  is  usually  found, 
after  the  first  heats  of  youth,  to  be  a careful  hus- 
band, and  to  feel  a habitual  desire  that  the  estate 
shall  suffer  no  harm  by  his  administration,  but 
shall  be  delivered  down  to  the  next  heir  in  as  good 
condition  as  he  received  it  ; — so  a considerate 
man  will  reckon  himself  a subject  of  that  secular 


158 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


melioration  by  which  mankind  is  mollified,  cured, 
and  refined ; and  will  shun  every  expenditure  of  his 
forces  on  pleasure  or  gain  which  will  jeopardize 
this  social  and  secular  accumulation. 

The  fossil  strata  show  us  that  Nature  began  with 
rudimental  forms  and  rose  to  the  more  complex  as 
fast  as  the  earth  was  fit  for  their  dwelling-place ; 
and  that  the  lower  perish  as  the  higher  appear. 
Very  few  of  our  race  can  be  said  to  be  yet  finished 
men.  We  still  carry  sticking  to  us  some  remains 
of  the  preceding  inferior  quadruped  organization. 
We  call  these  millions  men  ; but  they  are  not  yet 
men.  Half-engaged  in  the  soil,  pawing  to  get  free, 
man  needs  all  the  music  that  can  be  brought  to  dis- 
engage him.  If  Love,  red  Love,  with  tears  and  joy; 
if  Want  with  his  scourge ; if  War  with  his  cannon- 
ade ; if  Christianity  with  its  charity : if  Trade  with 
its  money ; if  Art  with  its  portfolios  ; if  Science 
with  her  telegraphs  through  the  deeps  of  space  and 
time  can  set  his  dull  nerves  throbbing,  and  by  loud 
taps  on  the  tough  chrysalis  can  break  its  walls  and 
let  the  new  creature  emerge  erect  and  free,  — make 
way  and  sing  paean ! The  age  of  the  quadruped  is 
to  go  out,  the  age  of  the  brain  and  of  the  heart  is  to 
come  in.  The  time  will  come  when  the  evil  forms 
we  have  known  can  no  more  be  organized.  Man’s 
culture  can  spare  nothing,  wants  all  the  material. 
He  is  to  convert  all  impediments  into  instruments, 


CULTURE. 


159 


all  enemies  into  power.  The  formidable  mischief 
will  only  make  the  more  useful  slave.  And  if  one 
shall  read  the  future  of  the  race  hinted  in  the  or- 
ganic effort  of  Nature  to  mount  and  meliorate,  and 
the  corresponding  impulse  to  the  Better  in  the  hu- 
man being,  we  shall  dare  affirm  that  there  is  noth- 
ing he  will  not  overcome  and  convert,  until  at  last 
culture  shall  absorb  the  chaos  and  gehenna.  He 
will  convert  the  Furies  into  Muses,  and  the  hells 
into  benefit. 


y. 


BEHAVIOR. 


Grace,  Beauty,  and  Caprice 
Build  this  golden  portal, 

Graceful  women,  chosen  men 
Dazzle  every  mortal : 

Their  sweet  and  lofty  countenance 
His  enchanting  food ; 

He  need  not  go  to  them,  their  forms 
Beset  his  solitude. 

He  looketh  seldom  in  their  face, 

His  eyes  explore  the  ground, 

The  green  grass  is  a looking-glass 
Whereon  their  traits  are  found. 
Little  he  says  to  them, 

So  dances  his  heart  in  his  breast, 
Their  tranquil  mien  bereaveth  him 
Of  wit,  of  words,  of  rest. 

Too  weak  to  win,  too  fond  to  shun 
The  tyrants  of  his  doom, 

The  much  deceived  Endymion 
Slips  behind  a tomb. 

11 


VOL.  VI. 


BEHAVIOR. 


The  soul  which  animates  Nature  is  not  less  sig- 
nificantly published  in  the  figure,  movement  and 
gesture  of  animated  bodies,  than  in  its  last  vehicle 
of  articulate  speech.  This  silent  and  subtile  lan- 
guage is  Manners ; not  what,  but  how . Life  ex- 
presses. A statue  has  no  tongue,  and  needs  none. 
Good  tableaux  do  not  need  declamation.  Nature 
tells  every  secret  once.  Yes,  but  in  man  she  tells 
it  all  the  time,  by  form,  attitude,  gesture,  mien, 
face  and  parts  of  the  face,  and  by  the  whole  action 
of  the  machine.  The  visible  carriage  or  action  of 
the  individual,  as  resulting  from  his  organization 
and  his  will  combined,  we  call  manners.  What  are 
they  but  thought  entering  the  hands  and  feet,  con- 
trolling the  movements  of  the  body,  the  speech  and 
behavior  ? 

There  is  always  a best  way  of  doing  everything, 
if  it  be  to  boil  an  egg.  Manners  are  the  happy 
way  of  doing  tilings ; each,  once  a stroke  of  genius 
or  of  love,  now  repeated  and  hardened  into  usage. 
They  form  at  last  a rich  varnish  with  which  the 
routine  of  life  is  washed  and  its  details  adorned. 
If  they  are  superficial,  so  are  the  dew  drops  which 


164 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


give  such  a depth  to  the  morning  meadows.  Man- 
ners are  very  communicable ; men  catch  them  from 
each  other.  Consuelo,  in  the  romance,  boasts  of 
the  lessons  she  had  given  the  nobles  in  manners, 
on  the  stage ; and  in  real  life,  Talma  taught  Napo- 
leon the  arts  of  behavior.  Genius  invents  fine  man- 
ners, which  the  baron  and  the  baroness  copy  very 
fast,  and,  by  the  advantage  of  a palace,  better  the 
instruction.  They  stereotype  the  lesson  they  have 
learned,  into  a mode. 

The  power  of  manners  is  incessant,  — an  ele- 
ment as  unconcealable  as  fire.  The  nobility  cannot 
in  any  country  be  disguised,  and  no  more  in  a re- 
public or  a democracy  than  in  a kingdom.  No  man 
can  resist  their  influence.  There  are  certain  man- 
ners which  are  learned  in  good  society,  of  that  force 
that  if  a person  have  them,  he  or  she  must  be  con- 
sidered, and  is  everywhere  welcome,  though  with- 
out beauty,  or  wealth,  or  genius.  Give  a boy  ad- 
dress and  accomplishments  and  you  give  him  the 
mastery  of  palaces  and  fortunes  where  he  goes. 
He  has  not  the  trouble  of  earning  or  owning  them, 
they  solicit  him  to  enter  and  possess.  We  send 
girls  of  a timid,  retreating  disposition  to  the  board- 
ing-school, to  the  riding-school,  to  the  ball-room,  or 
wheresoever  they  can  come  into  acquaintance  and 
nearness  of  leading  persons  of  their  own  sex ; where 
they  may  learn  address,  and  see  it  near  at  hand. 


BEJIA  VI OR. 


1G5 


The  power  of  a woman  of  fashion  to  lead  and  also 
to  daunt  and  repel,  derives  from  their  belief  that 
she  knows  resources  and  behaviors  not  known  to 
them ; but  when  these  have  mastered  her  secret 
they  learn  to  confront  her,  and  recover  their  self- 
possession. 

Every  day  bears  witness  to  their  gentle  rule. 
People  who  would  obtrude,  now  do  not  obtrude. 
The  mediocre  circle  learns  to  demand  that  which 
belongs  to  a high  state  of  nature  or  of  culture. 
Your  manners  are  always  under  examination,  and 
by  committees  little  suspected,  a police  in  citizens’ 
clothes,  who  are  awarding  or  denying  you  very  high 
prizes  when  you  least  think  of  it. 

We  talk  much  of  utilities,  but ’t  is  our  manners 
that  associate  us.  In  hours  of  business  we  go  to 
him  who  knows,  or  has,  or  does  this  or  that  which 
we  want,  and  we  do  not  let  our  taste  or  feeling 
stand  in  the  way.  But  this  activity  over,  we  re- 
turn to  the  indolent  state,  and  wish  for  those  we 
can  be  at  ease  with ; those  who  will  go  where  we 
go,  whose  manners  do  not  offend  us,  whose  social 
tone  chimes  with  ours.  When  we  reflect  on  their 
persuasive  and  cheering  force;  how  they  recom- 
mend, prepare,  and  draw  people  together  ; how,  in 
all  clubs,  manners  make  the  members ; how  man- 
ners make  the  fortune  of  the  ambitious  youth ; that, 
for  the  most  part,  his  manners  marry  him,  and,  for 


166 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


the  most  part,  he  marries  manners ; when  we  think 
what  keys  they  are,  and  to  what  secrets ; what  high 
lessons  and  inspiring  tokens  of  character  they  con- 
vey, and  what  divination  is  required  in  us  for  the 
reading  of  this  fine  telegraph,  — we  see  what  range 
the  subject  has,  and  what  relations  to  convenience, 
power  and  beauty. 

Their  first  service  is  very  low,  — when  they  are 
the  minor  morals  ; but ’t  is  the  beginning  of  civility, 
— to  make  us,  I mean,  endurable  to  each  other. 
We  prize  them  for  their  rough-plastic,  abstergent 
force ; to  get  people  out  of  the  quadruped  state ; to 
get  them  washed,  clothed,  and  set  up  on  end ; to 
slough  their  animal  husks  and  habits  ; compel  them 
to  be  clean;  overawe  their  spite  and  meanness; 
teach  them  to  stifle  the  base  and  choose  the  gener- 
ous expression,  and  make  them  know  how  much 
happier  the  generous  behaviors  are. 

Bad  behavior  the  laws  cannot  reach.  Society  is 
infested  with  rude,  cynical,  restless  and  frivolous 
persons,  who  prey  upon  the  rest,  and  whom  a pub- 
lic opinion  concentrated  into  good  manners  — forms 
accepted  by  the  sense  of  all  — can  reach  ! the  con- 
tradictors and  railers  at  public  and  private  tables, 
who  are  like  terriers,  who  conceive  it  the  duty  of  a 
dog  of  honor  to  growl  at  any  passer-by  and  do  the 
honors  of  the  house  by  barking  him  out  of  sight.  I 
have  seen  men  who  neigh  like  a horse  when  you 


BEHAVIOR. 


167 


contradict  them  or  say  something  which  they  do 
not  understand : — then  the  overbold,  who  make 
their  own  invitation  to  your  hearth ; the  persevering 
talker,  who  gives  you  his  society  in  large  saturating 
doses ; the  pitiers  of  themselves,  a perilous  class ; 
the  frivolous  Asmodeus,  who  relies  on  you  to  find 
him  in  ropes  of  sand  to  twist ; the  monotones ; in 
short,  every  stripe  of  absurdity ; — these  are  social 
inflictions  which  the  magistrate  cannot  cure  or  de- 
fend you  from,  and  which  must  be  intrusted  to  the 
restraining  force  of  custom  and  proverbs  and  fa- 
miliar rules  of  behavior  impressed  on  young  j^eople 
y in  their  school-days. 

In  the  hotels  on  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi 
they  print,  or  used  to  print,  among  the  rules  of  the 
house,  that  “ No  gentleman  can  be  permitted  to 
come  to  the  public  table  without  his  coat ; ” and 
in  the  same  country,  in  the  pews  of  the  churches 
little  placards  plead  with  the  worshipper  against  the 
fury  of  expectoration.  Charles  Dickens  self-sacri- 
ficingly  undertook  the  reformation  of  our  American 
manners  in  unspeakable  particulars.  I think  the 
lesson  was  not  quite  lost ; that  it  held  bad  man- 
ners up,  so  that  the  churls  could  see  the  deformity. 
Unhappily  the  book  had  its  own  deformities.  It 
ought  not  to  need  to  print  in  a reading-room  a cau- 
tion to  strangers  not  to  speak  loud  ; nor  to  persons 
who  look  over  fine  engravings  that  they  should  be 


168 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


handled  like  cobwebs  and  butterflies’  wings  j nor 
to  persons  who  look  at  marble  statues  that  they 
shall  not  smite  them  with  canes.  But  even  in  the 
perfect  civilization  of  this  city  such  cautions  are 
not  quite  needless  in  the  Athenseum  and  City 
Library. 

Manners  are  factitious,  and  grow  out  of  circum- 
stance as  well  as  out  of  character.  If  you  look  at 
the  pictures  of  patricians  and  of  peasants  of  differ- 
ent periods  and  countries,  you  will  see  how  well 
they  match  the  same  classes  in  our  towns.  The 
modern  aristocrat  not  only  is  well  drawn  in  Titian’s 
Venetian  doges  and  in  Roman  coins  and  statues,* 
but  also  in  the  pictures  which  Commodore  Perry 
brought  home  of  dignitaries  in  Japan.  Broad  lands 
and  great  interests  not  only  arrive  to  such  heads  as 
can  manage  them,  but  form  manners  of  power.  AT 
keen  eye  too  will  see  nice  gradations  of  rank,  or 
see  in  the  manners  the  degree  of  homage  the  party 
is  wont  to  receive.  A prince  who  is  accustomed 
every  day  to  be  courted  and  deferred  to  by  the 
highest  grandees,  acquires  a corresponding  expec- 
tation and  a becoming  mode  of  receiving  and  reply- 
ing to  this  homage. 

There  are  always  exceptional  people  and  modes. 
English  grandees  affect  to  be  farmers.  Claver- 
house  is  a fop,  and  under  the  finish  of  dress  and 
levity  of  behavior  hides  the  terror  of  his  war.  But 


BEHAVIOR . 


169 


Nature  and  Destiny  are  honest,  and  never  fail  to 
leave  their  mark,  to  hang  out  a sign  for  each  and 
for  every  quality.  It  is  much  to  conquer  one’s 
face,  and  perhaps  the  ambitious  youth  thinks  he 
lias  got  the  whole  secret  when  he  has  learned  that 
disengaged  manners  are  commanding.  Don’t  be 
deceived  by  a facile  exterior.  Tender  men  some- 
times have  strong  wills.  We  had  in  Massachusetts 
an  old  statesman  who  had  sat  all  his  life  in  courts 
and  in  chairs  of  state  without  overcoming  an  ex- 
treme irritability  of  face,  voice,  and  bearing  ; when 
he  spoke,  his  voice  would  not  serve  him ; it  cracked, 
it  broke,  it  wheezed,  it  piped  ; — little  cared  he ; he 
knew  that  it  had  got  to  pipe,  or  wheeze,  or  screech 
his  argument  and  his  indignation.  When  he  sat 
down,  after  speaking,  he  seemed  in  a sort  of  fit,  and 
held  on  to  his  chair  with  both  hands : but  under- 
neath all  this  irritability  was  a puissant  will,  firm 
and  advancing,  and  a memory  in  which  lay  in  order 
and  method  like  geologic  strata  every  fact  of  his 
history,  and  under  the  control  of  his  will. 

Manners  are  partly  factitious,  but  mainly  there 
must  be  capacity  for  culture  in  the  blood.  Else  all 
culture  is  vain.  The  obstinate  prejudice  in  favor  of 
blood,  which  lies  at  the  base  of  the  feudal  and  mo- 
narchical fabrics  of  the  Old  World,  has  some  rea,- 
son  in  common  experience^  Every  man,  — mathe- 
matician, artist,  soldier,  or  merchant,  — looks  with 


170 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


confidence  for  some  traits  and  talents  in  his  own 
child  which  he  would  not  dare  to  presume  in  the 
child  of  a stranger.  The  Orientalists  are  very  or- 
thodox on  this  point.  “ Take  a thorn-bush,”  said 
the  emir  Abdel-Kader,  “ and  sprinkle  it  for  a whole 
year  with  water;  — it  will  yield  nothing  but  thorns. 
Take  a date-tree,  leave  it  without  culture,  and  it 
will  always  produce  dates.  Nobility  is  the  date- 
tree  and  the  Arab  populace  is  a bush  of  thorns.” 

A main  fact  in  the  history  of  manners  is  the 
wonderful  expressiveness  of  the  human  body.  If 
it  were  made  of  glass,  or  of  air,  and  the  thoughts 
were  written  on  steel  tablets  within,  it  could  not 
publish  more  truly  its  meaning  than  now.  Wise 
men  read  very  sharply  all  your  private  history  in 
your  look  and  gait  and  behavior.  The  whole  econ- 
omy of  nature  is  bent  on  expression.  The  tell-tale 
body  is  all  tongues.  Men  are  like  Geneva  watches 
with  crystal  faces  which  expose  the  whole  move- 
ment. They  carry  the  liquor  of  life  flowing  up  and 
down  in  these  beautiful  bottles  and  announcing  to 
the  curious  how  it  is  with  them.  The  face  and 
eyes  reveal  what  the  spirit  is  doing,  how  old  it  is, 
what  aims  it  has.  The  eyes  indicate  the  antiquity 
of  the  soul,  or  through  how  many  forms  it  has 
already  ascended.  It  almost  violates  the  proprie- 
ties if  we  say  above  the  breath  here  what  the  con- 
fessing eyes  do  not  hesitate  to  utter  to  every  street 
passenger. 


BEHAVIOR. 


171 


Man  cannot  fix  liis  eye  on  the  sun,  and  so  far 
seems  imperfect.  In  Siberia  a late  traveller  found 
men  who  could  see  the  satellites  of  Jupiter  with 
their  unarmed  eye.  In  some  respects  the  animals 
excel  us.  The  birds  have  a longer  sight,  beside  the 
advantage  by  their  wings  of  a higher  observatory. 
A cow  can  bid  her  calf,  by  secret  signal,  probably 
of  the  eye,  to  run  away  or  to  lie  down  and  hide 
itself.  The  jockeys  say  of  certain  horses  that  “ they 
look  over  the  whole  ground.”  The  out-door  life 
and  hunting  and  labor  give  equal  vigor  to  the  hu- 
man eye.  A farmer  looks  out  at  you  as  strong  as 
the  horse ; his  eye-beam  is  like  the  stroke  of  a staff. 
An  eye  can  threaten  like  a loaded  and  levelled 
gun,  or  can  insult  like  hissing  or  kicking  ; or  in  its 
altered  mood  by  beams  of  kindness  it  can  make 
the  heart  dance  with  joy. 

The  eye  obeys  exactly  the  action  of  the  mind. 
When  a thought  strikes  us,  the  eyes  fix  and  re- 
main gazing  at  a distance  ; in  enumerating  the 
names  of  persons  or  of  countries,  as  France,  Ger- 
many, Spain,  Turkey,  the  eyes  wink  at  each  new 
name.  There  is  no  nicety  of  learning  sought  by 
the  mind  which  the  eyes  do  not  vie  in  acquiring. 
“ An  artist,”  said  Michael  Angelo,  “ must  have  his 
measuring  tools  not  in  the  hand,  but  in  the  eye ; ” 
and  there  is  no  end  to  the  catalogue  of  its  perform- 
ances, whether  in  indolent  vision  (that  of  health 


172 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


and  beauty),  or  in  strained  vision  (that  of  art  and 
labor). 

Eyes  are  bold  as  lions,  — roving,  running,  leap- 
ing, here  and  there,  far  and  near.  They  speak  all 
languages.  They  wait  for  no  introduction  ; they 
are  no  Englishmen  ; ask  no  leave  of  age,  or  rank ; 
they  respect  neither  poverty  nor  riches,  neither 
learning  nor  power  nor  virtue  nor  sex ; but  in- 
trude, and  come  again,  and  go  through  and  through 
you  in  a moment  of  time.  What  inundation  of 
life  and  thought  is  discharged  from  one  soul  into 
another,  through  them  ! The  glance  is  natural 
magic.  The  mysterious  communication  established 
across  a house  between  two  entire  strangers,  moves 
all  the  springs  of  wonder.  The  communication  by 
the  glance  is  in  the  greatest  part  not  subject  to  the 
control  of  the  will.  It  is  the  bodily  symbol  of  iden- 
tity of  nature.  We  look  into  the  eyes  to  know  if 
this  other  form  is  another  self,  and  the  eyes  will 
not  lie,  but  make  a faithful  confession  what  inhab- 
itant is  there.  The  revelations  are  sometimes  ter- 
rific. The  confession  of  a low,  usurping  devil  is 
there  made,  and  the  observer  shall  seem  to  feel  the 
stirring  of  owls  and  bats  and  horned  hoofs,  where 
he  looked  for  innocence  and  simplicity.  ’T  is  re- 
markable too  that  the  spirit  that  appears  at  the 
windows  of  the  house  does  at  once  invest  himself 
in  a new  form  of  his  own  to  the  mind  of  the  be- 
holder. 


BEHA  17  OR. 


173 


The  eyes  of  men  converse  as  much  as  their 
tongues,  with  the  advantage  that  the  ocular  dia- 
lect needs  no  dictionary,  but  is  understood  all  the 
world  over.  When  the  eyes  say  one  thing  and  the 
tongue  another,  a practised  man  relies  on  the  lan- 
guage of  the  first.  If  the  man  is  off  his  centre, 
the  eyes  show  it.  You  can  read  in  the  eyes  of 
your  companion  whether  your  argument  hits  him, 
though  his  tongue  will  not  confess  it.  There  is  a 
look  by  which  a man  shows  he  is  going  to  say  a 
good  thing,  and  a look  when  he  has  said  it.  Yain 
and  forgotten  are  all  the  fine  offers  and  offices 
of  hospitality,  if  there  is  no  holiday  in  the  eye. 
How  many  furtive  inclinations  avowed  by  the  eye, 
though  dissembled  by  the  lips  ! One  comes  away 
from  a company  in  which,  it  may  easily  happen, 
he  has  said  nothing  and  no  important  remark  has 
been  addressed  to  him,  and  yet,  if  in  sympathy 
with  the  society,  he  shall  not  have  a sense  of  this 
fact,  such  a stream  of  life  has  been  flowing  into 
him  and  out  from  him  through  the  eyes.  There 
are  eyes,  to  be  sure,  that  give  no  more  admission 
into  the  man  than  blueberries.  Others  are  liquid 
and  deep,  — wells  that  a man  might  fall  into ; — 
others  are  aggressive  and  devouring,  seem  to  call 
out  the  police,  take  all  too  much  notice,  and  require 
crowded  Broadways  and  the  security  of  millions  to 
protect  individuals  against  them.  The  military  eye 


174 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


I meet,  now  darkly  sparkling  under  clerical,  now 
under  rustic  brows.  ’T  is  the  city  of  Lacedaemon ; 
?tis  a stack  of  bayonets.  There  are  asking  eyes, 
asserting  eyes,  prowling  eyes ; and  eyes  full  of  fate, 
— some  of  good  and  some  of  sinister  omen.  The 
alleged  power  to  charm  down  insanity,  or  ferocity 
in  beasts,  is  a power  behind  the  eye.  It  must  be  a 
victory  achieved  in  the  will,  before  it  can  be  signi- 
fied in  the  eye.  It  is  very  certain  that  each  man 
carries  in  his  eye  the  exact  indication  of  his  rank 
in  the  immense  scale  of  men,  and  we  are  always 
learning  to  read  it.  A complete  man  should  need 
no  auxiliaries  to  his  personal  presence.  Whoever 
looked  on  him  would  consent  to  his  will,  being  cer- 
tified that  his  aims  were  generous  and  universal. 
The  reason  why  men  do  not  obey  us  is  because  they 
see  the  mud  at  the  bottom  of  our  eye. 

If  the  organ  of  sight  is  such  a vehicle  of  power, 
the  other  features  have  their  own.  A man  finds 
room  in  the  few  square  inches  of  the  face  for  the 
traits  of  all  his  ancestors ; for  the  expression  of 
all  his  history  and  his  wants.  The  sculptor  and 
Winckelmann  and  Lavater  will  tell  you  how  signi- 
ficant a feature  is  the  nose  ; how  its  forms  express 
strength  or  weakness  of  will,  and  good  or  bad  tem- 
per. The  nose  of  Julius  Caesar,  of  Dante,  and  of 
Pitt,  suggest  “ the  terrors  of  the  beak.”  What 
refinement  and  what  limitations  the  teeth  betray ! 


BE  HAW  OR.  175 

“ Beware  you  don’t  laugh,”  said  the  wise  mother, 
“ for  then  you  show  all  your  faults.” 

Balzac  left  in  manuscript  a chapter  which  he 
called  “ Theorie  de  la  demarche ,”  in  which  he 
says,  “ The  look,  the  voice,  the  respiration,  and  the 
attitude  or  walk,  are  identical.  But,  as  it  has  not 
been  given  to  man  tfie  power  to  stand  guard  at 
once  over  these  four  different  simultaneous  expres- 
sions of  his  thought,  watch  that  one  which  speaks 
out  the  truth,  and  you  will  know  the  whole  man.” 
Palaces  interest  us  mainly  in  the  exhibition  of 
manners,  which,  in  the  idle  and  expensive  society 
dwelling  in  them,  are  raised  to  a high  art.  The 
maxim  of  courts  is  that  manner  is  power.  A calm 
and  resolute  bearing,  a polished  speech,  an  embel- 
lishment of  trifles,  and  the  art  of  hiding  all  uncom- 
fortable feeling,  are  essential  to  the  courtier ; and 
Saint  Simon  and  Cardinal  de  Betz  and  Boederer 
and  an  encyclopaedia  of  Memoires  will  instruct  you, 
if  you  wish,  in  those  potent  secrets.  Thus  it  is  a 
point  of  pride  with  kings  to  remember  faces  and 
names.  It  is  reported  of  one  prince  that  his  head 
had  the  air  of  leaning  downwards,  in  order  not  to 
humble  the  crowd.  There  are  people  who  come  in 
ever  like  a child  with  a piece  of  good  news.  It 
was  said  of  the  late  Lord  Holland  that  he  always 
came  down  to  breakfast  with  the  air  of  a man  who 
had  just  met  with  some  signal  good-fortune.  In 


176 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


“ Ndtre  Dame”  the  grandee  took  his  place  on  the 
dais  with  the  look  of  one  who  is  thinking  of  some- 
thing else.  But  we  must  not  peep  and  eavesdrop 
at  palace-doors. 

Fine  manners  need  the  support  of  fine  manners 
in  others.  A scholar  may  be  a well-bred  man,  or 
he  may  not.  The  enthusiast  is  introduced  to  pol- 
ished scholars  in  society  and  is  chilled  and  silenced 
by  finding  himself  not  in  their  element.  They  all 
have  somewhat  which  he  has  not,  and,  it  seems, 
ought  to  have.  But  if  he  finds  the  scholar  apart 
from  his  companions,  it  is  then  the  enthusiast’s 
turn,  and  the  scholar  has  no  defence,  but  must  deal 
on  his  terms.  Now  they  must  fight  the  battle  out 
on  their  private  strength.  What  is  the  talent  of 
that  character  so  common  — the  successful  man  of 
the  world  — in  all  marts,  senates,  and  drawing- 
rooms ? Manners  : manners  of  power ; sense  to 
see  his  advantage,  and  manners  up  to  it.  See  him 
approach  his  man.  He  knows  that  troops  behave 
as  they  are  handled  at  first ; that  is  his  cheap  se- 
cret; just  what  happens  to  every  two  persons  who- 
meet  on  any  affair,  — one  instantly  perceives  that 
he  has  the  key  of  the  situation,  that  his  will  com- 
prehends the  other’s  will,  as  the  cat  does  the  mouse! 
and  he  has  only  to  use  courtesy  and  furnish  good- 
natured  reasons  to  his  victim  to  cover  up  the  chain, 
lest  he  be  shamed  into  resistance. 


BEHAVIOR.  177 

The  theatre  in  which  this  science  of  manners 
has  a formal  importance  is  not  with  us  a court,  but 
dress-circles,  wherein,  after  the  close  of  the  day’s 
business,  men  and  women  meet  at  leisure,  for  mu- 
tual entertainment,  in  ornamented  drawing-rooms. 
Of  course  it  has  every  variety  of  attraction  and 
merit ; but  to  earnest  persons,  to  youths  or  maidens 
who  have  great  objects  at  heart,  we  cannot  extol  it 
highly.  A well-dressed  talkative  company  where 
each  is  bent  to  amuse  the  other,  — yet  the  high-born 
Turk  who  came  hither  fancied  that  every  woman 
seemed  to  be  suffering  for  a chair;  that  all  the 
talkers  were  brained  and  exhausted  by  the  deoxy- 
genated  air ; it  spoiled  the  best  persons  ; it  put 
all  on  stilts.  Yet  here  are  the  secret  biographies 
written  and  read.  The  aspect  of  that  man  is  repul- 
sive ; I do  not  wish  to  deal  with  him.  The  other 
is  irritable,  shy,  and  on  his  guard.  The  youth 
looks  humble  and  manly;  I choose  him.  Look  on 
this  woman.  There  is  not  beauty,  nor  brilliant 
sayings,  nor  distinguished  power  to  serve  you ; but 
all  see  her  gladly  ; her  whole  air  and  impression 
are  healthful.  Here  come  the  sentimentalists,  and 
the  invalids.  Here  is  Elise,  who  caught  cold  in 
coming  into  the  world  and  has  always  increased  it 
since.  Here  are  creep-mouse  manners,  and  thiev- 
ish manners.  44  Look  at  Northcote,”  said  Fuseli ; 
u he  looks  like  a rat  that  has  seen  a cat.”  In  the 


VOL.  VI. 


12 


178 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


shallow  company,  easily  excited,  easily  tired,  here 
is  the  columnar  Bernard ; the  Alleghanies  do  not 
express  more  repose  than  his  behavior.  Here  are 
the  sweet  following  eyes  of  Cecile ; it  seemed  al- 
ways that  she  demanded  the  heart.  Nothing  can 
be  more  excellent  in  kind  than  the  Corinthian  grace 
of  Gertrude’s  manners,  and  yet  Blanche,  who  has 
no  manners,  has  better  manners  than  she  ; for  the 
movements  of  Blanche  are  the  sallies  of  a spirit 
which  is  sufficient  for  the  moment,  and  she  can 
afford  to  express  every  thought  by  instant  action. 

Manners  have  been  somewhat  cynically  defined 
to  be  a contrivance  of  wise  men  to  keep  fools  at  a 
distance.  Fashion  is  shrewd  to  detect  those  who 
do  not  belong  to  her  train,  and  seldom  wastes  her 
attentions.  Society  is  very  swift  in  its  instincts, 
and,  if  you  do  not  belong  to  it,  resists  and  sneers  at 
you,  or  quietly  drops  you.  The  first  weapon  en- 
rages the  party  attacked ; the  second  is  still  more 
effective,  but  is  not  to  be  resisted,  as  the  date  of  the 
transaction  is  not  easily  found.  People  grow  up 
and  grow  old  under  this  infliction,  and  never  sus- 
pect the  truth,  ascribing  the  solitude  which  acts  on 
them  very  injuriously  to  any  cause  but  the  right 
one. 

Thc^basi&j^  manners  is  self-reliance.  Ne- 
cessity is  the  law  of  all  who  are  not  self-possessed. 
Those  who  are  not  self-possessed  obtrude  and  pain 

/ 

^ i 6 

L*  o^J\  * 

_ --  „ 

a 


Ca 

r I 


, j'V  / 


BEHAVIOR. 


179 


us.  Some  men  appear  to  feel  that  they  belong  to 
a Pariah  caste.  They  fear  to  offend,  they  bend  and 
apologize,  and  walk  through  life  with  a timid  step. 
As  we  sometimes  dream  that  we  are  in  a well- 
dressed  company  without  any  coat,  so  Godfrey  acts 
ever  as  if  he  suffered  from  some  mortifying  circum- 
stance. The  hero  should  find  himself  at  home, 
wherever  he  is ; should  impart  comfort  by  his  own 
security  and  good-nature  to  all  beholders.  The 
hero  is  suffered  to  be  himself.  A person  of  strong 
mind  comes  to  perceive  that  for  him  an  immunity  is 
secured  so  long  as  he  renders  to  society  that  service 
which  is  native  and  proper  to  him,  — an  immunity 
from  all  the  observances,  yea,  and  duties,  which 
society  so  tyrannically  imposes  on  the  rank  and  file 
of  its  members.  “ Euripides,”  says  Aspasia,  “ has 
not  the  fine  manners  of  Sophocles;  but,”  she  adds 
good-humoredly,  “the  movers  and  masters  of  our 
souls  have  surely  a right  to  throw  out  their  limbs 
as  carelessly  as  they  please,  on  the  world  that  be- 
longs to  them,  and  before  the  creatures  they  have 
animated.”  1 

Manners  require  time,  as  nothing  is  more  vul- 
gar than  haste.  Friendship  should  be  surrounded 
with  ceremonies  and  respects,  and  not  crushed  into 
corners.  Friendship  requires  more  time  than  poor 
busy  men  can  usually  command.  Here  conies  to 
1 Landor  : Pericles  and  Aspasia . 


180 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


me  Roland,  with  a delicacy  of  sentiment  leading 
and  inwrapping  him  like  a divine  cloud  or  holy 
ghost.  ’T  is  a great  destitution  to  both  that  this 
should  not  be  entertained  with  large  leisures,  but 
contrariwise  should  be  balked  by  importunate  af- 
fairs. 

But  through  this  lustrous  varnish  the  reality  is 
ever  shining.  ?T  is  hard  to  keep  the  what  from 
breaking  through  this  pretty  painting  of  the  how . 
The  core  will  come  to  the  surface.  Strong  will 
and  keen  perception  overpower  old  manners  and 
create  new ; and  the  thought  of  the  present  mo- 
ment has  a greater  value  than  all  the  past.  In 
persons  of  character  we  do  not  remark  manners, 
because  of  their  instantaneousness.  We  are  sur- 
prised by  the  thing  done,  out  of  all  power  to  watch 
the  way  of  it.  Yet  nothing  is  more  charming  than 
to  recognize  the  great  style  which  runs  through 
the  actions  of  such.  People  masquerade  before  us 
in  their  fortunes,  titles,  offices,  and  connections,  as 
academic  or  civil  presidents,  or  senators,  or  profes- 
sors, or  great  lawyers,  and  impose  on  the  frivolous, 
and  a good  deal  on  each  other,  by  these  fames.  At 
least  it  is  a point  of  prudent  good  manners  to  treat 
these  reputations  tenderly,  as  if  they  were  merited. 
But  the  sad  realist  knows  these  fellows  at  a glance, 
and  they  know  him ; as  when  in  Paris  the  chief 
of  the  police  enters  a ball-room,  so  many  diamonded 


BE II A WOR. 


181 


pretenders  shrink  and  make  themselves  as  incon- 
spicuous as  they  can,  or  give  him  a supplicating 
look  as  they  pass.  “ I had  received,”  said  a sibyl, 
“ I had  received  at  birth  the  fatal  gift  of  penetra- 
tion ; ” and  these  Cassandras  are  always  born. 

Manners  impress  as  they  indicate  real  power.  A 
man  who  is  sure  of  his  point,  carries  a broad  and 
contented  expression,  which  everybody  reads.  And 
you  cannot  rightly  train  one  to  an  air  and  manner, 
except  by  making  him  the  kind  oiman  of  whom 
that  manner  is  the  natural  expression.  Nature  for- 
ever  puts  a premium  on  reality.  What  is  done  for 
effect  is  seen  to  be  done  for  effect ; what  is  done 
for  love  is  felt  to  be  done  for  love.  A man  inspires 
affection  and  honor  because  he  was  not  lying  in 
wait  for  these.  The  things  of  a man  for  which  we 
tdsit  him  were  done  in  the  dark  and  the  cold.  A 
little  integrity  is  better  than  any  career.  So  deep 
are  the  sources  of  this  surface-action  that  even  the 
size  of  your  companion  seems  to  vary  with  his  free- 
dom of  thought.  Not  only  is  he  larger,  when  at 
ease  and  his  thoughts  generous,  but  every  thing 
around  him  becomes  variable  with  expression.  No 
carpenter’s  rule,  no  rod  and  chain  will  measure  the 
dimensions  of  any  house  or  house-lot ; go  into  the 
house  ; if  the  proprietor  is  constrained  and  defer- 
ring ’t  is  of  no  importance  how  large  his  house,  how 
beautiful  his  grounds,  — you  quickly  come  to  the 


182 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


end  of  all : but  if  the  man  is  self-possessed,  happy 
and  at  home,  his  house  is  deep-founded,  indefinitely 
large  and  interesting,  the  roof  and  dome  buoyant 
as  the  sky.  Under  the  humblest  roof,  the  common- 
est person  in  plain  clothes  sits  there  massive,  cheer- 
ful, yet  formidable,  like  the  Egyptian  colossi. 

Neither  Aristotle,  nor  Leibnitz,  nor  Junius,  nor 
Champollion  has  set  down  the  grammar -rules  of 
this  dialect,  older  than  Sanscrit ; but  they  who  can- 
not yet  read  English,  can  read  this.  Men  take  each 
other’s  measure,  when  they  meet  for  the  first  time, 
— and  every  time  they  meet.  How  do  they  get 
this  rapid  knowledge,  even  before  they  speak,  of 
each  other’s  power  and  dispositions  ? One  would 
say  that  the  persuasion  of  their  speech  is  not  in 
what  they  say,  — or  that  men  do  not  convince  by 
their  argument,  but  by  their  personality,  by  who 
they  are,  and  what  they  said  and  did  heretofore. 
A man  already  strong  is  listened  to,  and  every 
thing  he  says  is  applauded.  Another  opposes  him 
with  sound  argument,  but  the  argument  is  scouted 
until  by  and  by  it  gets  into  the  mind  of  some 
weighty  person ; then  it  begins  to  tell  on  the  com- 
munity. 

Self-reliance  is  the  basis  of  behavior,  as  it  is  the 
guaranty  that  the  powers  are  not  squandered  in 
too  much  demonstration.  In  this  country,  where 
school  education  is  universal,  we  have  a superficial 


BEHAVIOR. 


183 


culture,  and  a profusion  of  reading  and  writing  and 
expression.  We  parade  our  nobilities  in  poems 
and  orations,  instead  of  working  them  up  into  hap- 
piness. There  is  a whisper  out  of  the  ages  to  him 
who  can  understand  it,  — “ Whatever  is  known  to 
thyself  alone,  has  always  very  great  value.”  There 
is  some  reason  to  believe  that  when  a man  does  not 
write  his  poetry  it  escapes  by  other  vents  through 
him,  instead  of  the  one  vent  of  writing ; clings  to 
his  form  and  manners,  whilst  poets  have  often 
nothing  poetical  about  them  except  their  verses. 
Jacobi  said  that  “ when  a man  has  fully  expressed 
his  thought,  he  has  somewhat  less  possession  of  it.” 
One  would  say,  the  rule  is,  — What  a man  is  irre- 
sistibly urged  to  say,  helps  him  and  us.  In  ex- 
plaining his  thought  to  others,  he  explains  it  to 
himself,  but  when  he  opens  it  for  show,  it  corrupts 
him. 

Society  is  the  stage  on  which  manners  are 
shown ; novels  are  their  literature.  Novels  are 
the  journal  or  record  of  manners,  and  the  new  im- 
portance of  these  books  derives  from  the  fact  that 
the  novelist  begins  to  penetrate  the  surface  and 
treat  this  part  of  life  more  worthily.  The  novels 
used  to  be  all  alike,  and  had  a quite  vulgar  tone. 
The  novels  used  to  lead  us  on  to  a foolish  interest 
in  the  fortunes  of  the  boy  and  girl  they  described. 
The  boy  was  to  be  raised  from  a humble  to  a high 


184 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


position.  He  was  in  want  of  a wife  and  a castle, 
and  the  object  of  the  story  was  to  supply  him  with 
one  or  both.  We  watched  sympathetically,  step 
by  step,  his  climbing,  until  at  last  the  point  is 
gained,  the  wedding  day  is  fixed,  and  we  follow 
the  gala  procession  home  to  the  bannered  portal, 
when  the  doors  are  slammed  in  our  face  and  the 
poor  reader  is  left  outside  in  the  cold,  not  enriched 
by  so  much  as  an  idea  or  a virtuous  impulse. 

But  the  victories  of  character  are  instant,  and 
victories  for  all.  Its  greatness  enlarges  all.  We 
are  fortified  by  every  heroic  anecdote.  The  novels 
are  as  useful  as  Bibles  if  they  teach  you  the  secret 
that  the  best  of  life  is  conversation,  and  the  great- 
est success  is  confidence,  or  perfect  understanding 
between  sincere  people.  ’T  is  a French  definition 
of  friendship,  rien  que  s’  entendre,  good  understand- 
ing. The  highest  compact  we  can  make  with  our 
fellow,  is,  — 6 Let  there  be  truth  between  us  two 
forevermore.’  That  is  the  charm  in  all  good  nov- 
els, as  it  is  the  charm  in  all  good  histories,  that 
the  heroes  mutually  understand,  from  the  first,  and 
deal  loyally  and  with  a profound  trust  in  each 
other.  It  is  sublime  to  feel  and  say  of  another, 
I need  never  meet  or  speak  or  write  to  him ; we 
need  not  reinforce  ourselves,  or  send  tokens  of 
remembrance ; I rely  on  him  as  on  myself ; if  he 
did  thus  or  thus,  I know  it  was  right. 


BEHAVIOR. 


185 


In  all  the  superior  people  I have  met  I notice 
directness,  truth  spoken  more  truly,  as  if  every- 
thing of  obstruction,  of  malformation,  had  been 
trained  away.  What  have  they  to  conceal  ? What 
have  they  to  exhibit  ? Between  simple  and  noble 
persons  there  is  always  a quick  intelligence ; they 
recognize  at  sight,  and  meet  on  a better  ground 
than  the  talents  and  skills  they  may  chance  to 
possess,  namely  on  sincerity  and  uprightness.  For 
it  is  not  what  talents  or  genius  a man  has,  but 
how  he  is  to  his  talents,  that  constitutes  friendship 
and  character.  The  man  that  stands  by  himself, 
the  universe  stands  by  him  also.  It  is  related  of 
the  monk  Basle,  that  being  excommunicated  by 
the  Pope,  he  was,  at  his  death,  sent  in  charge  of  an 
angel  to  find  a fit  place  of  suffering  in  hell ; but 
such  was  the  eloquence  and  good-humor  of  the 
monk,  that  wherever  he  went  he  was  received 
gladly  and  civilly  treated  even  by  the  most  uncivil 
angels ; and  when  he  came  to  discourse  with  them, 
instead  of  contradicting  or  forcing  him,  they  took 
his  part,  and  adopted  his  manners  ; and  even  good 
angels  came  from  far  to  see  him  and  take  up  their 
abode  with  him.  The  angel  that  was  sent  to  find 
a place  of  torment  for  him  attempted  to  remove 
him  to  a worse  pit,  but  with  no  better  success ; for 
such  was  the  contented  spirit  of  the  monk  that  he 
found  something  to  praise  in  every  place  and  com- 


186  CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 

pany,  though  in  hell,  and  made  a kind  of  heaven 
of  it.  At  last  the  escorting  angel  returned  with 
his  prisoner  to  them  that  sent  him,  saying  that  no 
phlegethon  could  be  found  that  would  burn  him ; 
for  that  in  whatever  condition,  Basle  remained 
incorrigibly  Basle.  The  legend  says  his  sentence 
was  remitted,  and  he  was  allowed  to  go  into 
heaven  and  was  canonized  as  a saint. 

There  is  a stroke  of  magnanimity  in  the  corre- 
spondence of  Bonaparte  with  his  brother  Joseph, 
when  the  latter  was  King  of  Spain,  and  complained 
that  he  missed  in  Napoleon’s  letters  the  affectionate 
tone  which  had  marked  their  childish  correspond- 
ence. “ I am  sorry,”  replies  Napoleon,  “ you 
think  you  shall  find  your  brother  again  only  in  the 
Elysian  Fields.  It  is  natural  that  at  forty  he 
should  not  feel  toward  you  as  he  did  at  twelve. 
But  his  feelings  toward  you  have  greater  truth 
and  strength.  His  friendship  has  the  features  of 
his  mind.” 

How  much  we  forgive  to  those  who  yield  us  the 
rare  spectacle  of  heroic  manners  ! W e will  pardon 
them  the  want  of  books,  of  arts,  and  even  of  the 
gentler  virtues.  How  tenaciously  we  remember 
them ! Here  is  a lesson  which  I brought  along 
with  me  in  boyhood  from  the  Latin  School,  and 
which  ranks  with  the  best  of  Roman  anecdotes. 
Marcus  Scaurus  was  accused  by  Quintus  Varius 


BEUA  VI OR. 


187 


Hispanus,  tliat  he  had  excited  the  allies  to  take 
arms  against  the  Republic.  But  he,  full  of  firm- 
ness and  gravity,  defended  himself  in  this  man- 
ner : — “ Quintus  Varius  Hispanus  alleges  that 
Marcus  Scaurus,  President  of  the  Senate,  excited 
the  allies  to  arms  : Marcus  Scaurus,  President  of 
the  Senate,  denies  it.  There  is  no  witness.  Which 
do  you  believe,  Romans  ? ” “ TJtri  creditis , Qui - 

rites  ? ” When  he  had  said  these  words  he  was 
absolved  by  the  assembly  of  the  people. 

I have  seen  manners  that  make  a similar  im- 
pression with  personal  beauty ; that  give  the  like 
exhilaration,  and  refine  us  like  that ; and  in  memo- 
rable experiences  they  are  suddenly  better  than 
beauty,  and  make  that  superfluous  and  ugly.  But 
they  must  be  marked  by  fine  perception,  the  ac- 
quaintance with  real  beauty.  They  must  always 
show  self-control;  you  shall  not  be  facile,  apolo- 
getic, or  leaky,  but  king  over  your  word ; and  every 
gesture  and  action  shall  indicate  power  at  rest. 
Then  they  must  be  inspired  by  the  good  heart. 
There  is  no  beautifier  of  complexion,  or  form,  or 
behavior,  like  the  wish  to  scatter  joy  and  not  pain 
around  us.  It  is  good  to  give  a stranger  a meal, 
or  a night’s  lodging.  It  is  better  to  be  hospitable 
to  his  good  meaning  and  thought,  and  give  courage 
to  a companion.  We  must  be  as  courteous  to  a 
man  as  we  are  to  a picture,  which  we  are  willing 


188 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


to  give  the  advantage  of  a good  light.  Special 
precepts  are  not  to  be  thought  of ; the  talent  of 
well-doing  contains  them  all.  Every  hour  will 
show  a duty  as  paramount  as  that  of  my  whim  just 
now,  and  yet  I will  write  it,  — that  there  is  one 
topic  peremptorily  forbidden  to  all  well-bred,  to 
all  rational  mortals,  namely,  their  distempers.  If 
you  have  not  slept,  or  if  you  have  slept,  or  if  you 
have  headache,  or  sciatica,  or  leprosy,  or  thun- 
derstroke, I beseech  you  by  all  angels  to  hold 
your  peace,  and  not  pollute  the  morning,  to  which 
all  the  housemates  bring  serene  and  pleasant 
thoughts,  by  corruption  and  groans.  Come  out  of 
the  azure.  Love  the  day.  Do  not  leave  the  sky 
out  of  your  landscape.  The  oldest  and  the  most 
deserving  person  should  come  very  modestly  into 
any  newly  awaked  company,  respecting  the  divine 
communications  out  of  which  all  must  be  presumed 
to  have  newly  come.  An  old  man  who  added  an 
elevating  culture  to  a large  experience  of  life,  said 
to  me,  “ When  you  come  into  the  room,  I think  I 
will  study  how  to  make  humanity  beautiful  to 
you.” 

As  respects  the  delicate  question  of  culture  I do 
not  think  that  any  other  than  negative  rules  can  be 
laid  down.  For  positive  rules,  for  suggestion,  Na- 
ture alone  inspires  it.  Who  dare  assume  to  guide 
a youth,  a maid,  to  perfect  manners  ? the  golden 


BEHAVIOR . 


189 


mean  is  so  delicate,  difficult,  — say  frankly,  unat- 
tainable. What  finest  hands  would  not  be  clumsy 
to  sketch  the  genial  precepts  of  the  young  girl’s 
demeanor  ? The  chances  seem  infinite  against 
success ; and  yet  success  is  continually  attained. 
There  must  not  be  secondariness,  and ’t  is  a thou- 
sand to  one  that  her  air  and  manner  will  at  once 
betray  that  she  is  not  primary,  but  that  there  is 
some  other  one  or  many  of  her  class  to  whom  she 
habitually  postpones  herself.  But  Nature  lifts  her 
easily  and  without  knowing  it  over  these  impossi- 
bilities, and  we  are  continually  surprised  with 
graces  and  felicities  not  only  unteaehable  but  un- 
describable. 


VI. 


WORSHIP. 


This  is  he,  who,  felled  by  foes, 

Sprung  harmless  up,  refreshed  by  blows  : 
He  to  captivity  was  sold, 

But  him  no  prison-bars  would  hold : 
Though  they  sealed  him  in  a rock, 
Mountain  chains  he  can  unlock  : 

Thrown  to  lions  for  their  meat, 

The  crouching  lion  kissed  his  feet : 

Bound  to  the  stake,  no  flames  appalled, 

But  arched  o’er  him  an  honoring  vault. 
This  is  he  men  miscall  Fate, 

Threading  dark  ways,  arriving  late, 

But  ever  coming  in  time  to  crown 
The  truth,  and  hurl  wrongdoers  down. 

He  is  the  oldest,  and  best  known, 

More  near  than  aught  thou  call’st  thy  own, 
Yet  greeted  in  another’s  eyes, 

Disconcerts  with  glad  surprise. 

This  is  Jove,  who,  deaf  to  prayers, 

Floods  with  blessings  unawares. 

Draw,  if  thou  canst,  the  mystic  line, 
Severing  rightly  his  from  thine, 

Which  is  human,  which  divine. 


N 


WORSHIP. 


Some  of  my  friends  have  complained,  when  the 
preceding  papers  were  read,  that  we  discussed  Fate, 
Power  and  Wealth  on  too  low  a platform;  gave 
too  much  line  to  the  evil  spirit  of  the  times  ; too 
many  cakes  to  Cerberus ; that  we  ran  Cudworth’s 
risk  of  making,  by  excess  of  candor,  the  argument 
of  atheism  so  strong  that  he  could  not  answer  it. 
I have  no  fears  of  being  forced  in  my  own  despite 
to  play  as  we  say  the  devil’s  attorney.  I have  no 
infirmity  of  faith ; no  belief  that  it  is  of  much  im- 
portance what  I or  any  man  may  say : I am  sure 
that  a certain  truth  will  be  said  through  me,  though 
I should  be  dumb,  or  though  I should  try  to  say 
the  reverse.  Nor  do  I fear  skepticism  for  any  good 
soul.  A just  thinker  will  allow  full  swing  to  his 
skepticism.  I dip  my  pen  in  the  blackest  ink,  be- 
cause I am  not  afraid  of  falling  into  my  inkpot. 
I have  no  sympathy  with  a poor  man  I knew,  who, 
when  suicides  abounded,  told  me  he  dared  not  look 
at  his  razor.  We  are  of  different  opinions  at  dif- 
ferent hours,  but  we  always  may  be  said  to  be  at 
heart  on  the  side  of  truth. 


VOL.  vi. 


13 


194 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


I see  not  why  we  should  give  ourselves  such 
sanctified  airs.  If  the  Divine  Providence  has  hid 
from  men  neither  disease  nor  deformity  nor  cor- 
rupt society,  but  has  stated  itself  out  in  passions,  in 
war,  in  trade,  in  the  love  of  power  and  pleasure, 
in  hunger  and  need,  in  tyrannies,  literatures  and 
arts,  — let  us  not  be  so  nice  that  we  cannot  write 
these  facts  down  coarsely  as  they  stand,  or  doubt 
but  there  is  a counter -statement  as  ponderous, 
which  we  can  arrive  at,  and  which,  being  put,  will 
make  all  square.  The  solar  system  has  no  anxiety 
about  its  reputation,  and  the  credit  of  truth  and 
honesty  is  as  safe ; nor  have  I any  fear  that  a skep- 
tical bias  can  be  given  by  leaning  hard  on  the  sides 
of  fate,  of  practical  power,  or  of  trade,  which  the 
doctrine  of  Faith  cannot  down- weigh.  The  strength 
of  that  principle  is  not  measured  in  ounces  and 
pounds;  it  tyrannizes  at  the  centre  of  Nature.  We 
may  well  give  skepticism  as  much  line  as  we  can. 
The  spirit  will  return  and  fill  us.  It  drives  the 
drivers.  It  counterbalances  any  accumulations  of 
power : — 

“ Heaven  kindly  gave  our  blood  a moral  flow.” 

We  are  born  loyal.  The  whole  creation  is  made 
of  hooks  and  eyes,  of  bitumen,  of  sticking-plaster ; 
and  whether  your  community  is  made  in  Jerusalem 
or  in  California,  of  saints  or  of  wreckers,  it  coheres 
in  a perfect  ball.  Men  as  naturally  make  a state, 


WORSHIP . 


195 


or  a church,  as  caterpillars  a web.  If  they  were 
more  refined,  it  would  be  less  formal,  it  would  be 
nervous,  like  that  of  the  Shakers,  who,  from  long 
habit  of  thinking  and  feeling  together  it  is  said  are 
affected  in  the  same  way,  at  the  same  time,  to  work 
and  to  play ; and  as  they  go  with  perfect  sympathy 
to  their  tasks  in  the  field  or  shop,  so  are  they  in- 
clined for  a ride  or  a journey  at  the  same  instant, 
and  the  horses  come  up  with  the  family  carriage 
unbespoken  to  the  door. 

We  are  born  believing.  A man  bears  beliefs  as 
a tree  bears  apples.  A self-poise  belongs  to  every 
particle,  and  a rectitude  to  every  mind,  and  is  the 
Nemesis  and  protector  of  every  society.  I and  my 
neighbors  have  been  bred  in  the  notion  that  unless 
we  came  soon  to  some  good  church,  — Calvinism, 
or  Behmenism,  or  Romanism,  or  Mormonism, — 

there  would  be  a universal  thaw  and  dissolution. 

_ — — — — ■ * 

No  Isaiah  or  Jeremy  has  arrived.  Nothing  can 
exceed  the  anarchy  that  has  followed  in  our  skies. 
The  stern  old  faiths  have  all  pulverized.  ’T  is  a 
whole  population  of  gentlemen  and  ladies  out  in 
search  of  religions.  ’T  is  as  flat  anarchy  in  our 
ecclesiastic  realms  as  that  which  existed  in  Massa- 
chusetts in  the  Revolution,  or  which  prevails  now 
on  the  slope  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  or  Pike’s 
Peak.  Yet  we  make  shift  to  live.  Men  are  loyal. 
Nature  has  self -poise  in  all  her  works ; certain 


196 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


proportions  in  which  oxygen  and  azote  combine, 
and  not  less  a harmony  in  faculties,  a fitness  in 
the  spring  and  the  regulator.  The  decline  of  the 
influence  of  Calvin,  or  Fenelon,  or  Wesley,  or 
Channing,  need  give  us  no  uneasiness.  The  builder 
of  heaven  has  not  so  ill  constructed  his  creature 
as  that  the  religion,  that  is,  the  public  nature, 
should  fall  out:  the  public  and  the  private  ele- 
ment, like  north  and  south,  like  inside  and  out- 
side, like  centrifugal  and  centripetal,  adhere  to 
every  soul,  and  cannot  be  subdued  except  the  soul 
is  dissipated.  God  builds  his  temple  in  the  heart 
l the  ruins  of  churches  and  religions. 

In  the  last  chapters  we  treated  some  particulars 
of  the  question  of  culture.  But  the  whole  state  of 


ship.  There  is  always  some  religion,  some  hope 
and  fear  extended  into  the  invisible,  — from  the 
blind  boding  which  nails  a horseshoe  to  the  mast 
or  the  threshold,  up  to  the  song  of  the  Elders  in 
the  Apocalypse.  But  the  religion  cannot  rise 
above  the  state  of  the  votary.  Heaven  always 
bears  some  proportion  to  earth.  The  god  of  the 
cannibals  will  be  a cannibal,  of  the  crusaders  a 
crusader,  and  of  the  merchants  a merchant.  In 
all  ages,  souls  out  of  time,  extraordinary,  prophetic, 
are  born,  who  are  rather  related  to  the  system  of 


man  is  a state  of  culture  ; and  its  flowering  and 
completion  may  be  described  as  Religion,  or  Wor- 


WORSHIP. 


197 


the  world  than  to  their  particular  age  and  locality. 
These  announce  absolute  truths,  which,  with  what- 
ever reverence  received,  are  speedily  dragged  down 
into  a savage  interpretation.  The  interior  tribes  of 
our  Indians  and  some  of  the  Pacific  islanders  flog 
their  gods  when  things  take  an  unfavorable  turn. 
The  Greek  poets  did  not  hesitate  to  let  loose  their 
petulant  wit  on  their  deities  also.  Laomedon,  in  his 
anger  at  Neptune  and  Apollo,  who  had  built  Troy 
for  him  and  demanded  their  price,  does  not  hesitate 
to  menace  them  that  he  will  cut  their  ears  off.1 
Among  our  Norse  forefathers,  King  Olaf’s  mode  of 
converting  Eyvind  to  Christianity  was  to  put  a pan 
of  glowing  coals  on  his  belly,  which  burst  asunder. 
“ Wilt  thou  now,  Eyvind,  believe  in  Christ  ? ” asks 
Olaf,  in  excellent  faith.  Another  argument  was 
an  adder  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  reluctant  dis- 
ciple Rand,  who  refused  to  believe. 

Christianity,  in  the  romantic  ages,  signified  Eu- 
ropean culture,  — the  grafted  or  meliorated  tree 
in  a crab  forest.  And  to  marry  a pagan  wife  or 
husband  was  to  marry  Beast,  and  voluntarily  to 
take  a step  backwards  towards  the  baboon  : — 

“ Hengist  had  verament 
A daughter  both  fair  and  gent, 

But  she  was  heathen  Sarazine, 

And  Vortigern  for  love  fine 


1 Iliad,  Book  xxi.  1.  455. 


198 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


Her  took  to  fere  and  to  wife, 

And  was  cursed  in  all  his  life; 

For  he  let  Christian  wed  heathen, 

And  mixed  our  blood  as  flesh  and  mathen.” 1 

What  Gothic  mixtures  the  Christian  creed  drew 
from  the  pagan  sources,  Richard  of  Devizes’  chron- 
icle of  Richard  I.’s  crusade,  in  the  twelfth  century, 
may  show.  King  Richard  taunts  God  with  for- 
saking him  : “ O fie ! O how  unwilling  should  I 
be  to  forsake  thee,  in  so  forlorn  and  dreadful  a 
position,  were  I thy  lord  and  advocate,  as  thou  art 
mine.  In  sooth,  my  standards  will  in  future  be 
despised,  not  through  my  fault,  but  through  thine : 
in  sooth  not  through  any  cowardice  of  my  war- 
fare art  thou  thyself,  my  king  and  my  God,  con- 
quered this  day,  and  not  Richard  thy  vassal.” 
The  religion  of  the  early  English  poets  is  anoma- 
lous, so  devout  and  so  blasphemous,  in  the  same 
breath.  Such  is  Chaucer’s  extraordinary  confu- 
sion of  heaven  and  earth  in  the  picture  of  Dido : — 

“ She  was  so  fair, 

So  young,  so  lusty,  with  her  eyen  glad, 

That  if  that  God  that  heaven  and  earthe  made 
Would  have  a love  for  beauty  and  goodness, 

And  womanhede,  truth,  and  seemliness, 

Whom  should  he  loven  but  this  lady  sweet  ? 

There  n ’ is  no  woman  to  him  half  so  meet.” 

With  these  grossnesses,  we  complacently  corn* 


1 Moths  or  worms. 


WORSHIP. 


199 


pare  our  own  taste  and  decorum.  We  think  and 
speak  with  more  temperance  and  gradation,  — hut 
is  not  indifferentism  as  bad  as  suj^erstition  ? 

We  live  in  a transition  period,  when  the  old 
faiths  which  comforted  nations,  and  not  only  so 
but  made  nations,  seem  to  have  spent  their  force. 
I do  not  find  the  religions  of  men  at  this  moment 
very  creditable  to  them,  but  either  childish  and 
insignificant  or  unmanly  and  effeminating.  The 
fatal  trait  is  the  divorce  between  religion  and 
morality.  Here  are  know-nothing  religions,  or 
churches  that  proscribe  intellect;  scortatory  relig- 
ions ; slave-holding  and  slave-trading  religions ; 
and,  even  in  the  decent  populations,  idolatries 
wdierein  the  whiteness  of  the  ritual  covers  scarlet 
indulgence.  The  lover  of  the  old  religion  com- 
plains that  our  contemporaries,  scholars  as  well  as 
merchants,  succumb  to  a great  despair,  — have  cor- 
rupted into  a timorous  conservatism  and  believe 
in  nothing.  In  our  large  cities  the  population  is 
godless,  materialized,  — no  bond,  no  fellow-feeling, 
no  enthusiasm.  These  are  not  men,  but  hungers, 
thirsts,  fevers  and  appetites  walking.  How  is  it 
people  manage  to  live  on,  — so  aimless  as  they 
are?  After  their  pepper-corn  aims  are  gained,  it 
seems  as  if  the  lime  in  their  bones  alone  held 
them  together,  and  not  any  worthy  purpose.  There 
is  no  faith  in  the  intellectual,  none  in  the  moral 


200 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


universe.  There  is  faith  in  chemistry,  in  meat 
and  wine,  in  wealth,  in  machinery,  in  the  steam- 
engine,  galvanic  battery,  turbine-wheels,  sewing- 
machines,  and  in  public  opinion,  but  not  in  divine 
causes.  A silent  revolution  has  loosed  the  tension 
of  the  old  religious  sects,  and  in  place  of  the  grav- 
ity and  permanence  of  those  societies  of  opinion, 
they  run  into  freak  and  extravagance.  In  creeds 
never  was  such  levity ; witness  the  heathenisms  in 
Christianity,  the  periodic  “revivals,”  the  Millen- 
nium mathematics,  the  peacock  ritualism,  the  retro- 
gression to  Popery,  the  maundering  of  Mormons, 
the  squalor  of  Mesmerism,  the  deliration  of  rap- 
pings,  the  rat  and  mouse  revelation,  thumps  in 
table-drawers,  and  black  art.  The  architecture, 
the  music,  the  prayer,  partake  of  the  madness ; the 
arts  sink  into  shift  and  make-believe.  Not  know- 
ing what  to  do,  we  ape  our  ancestors ; the  churches 
stagger  backward  to  the  mummeries  of  the  Dark 
Ages.  By  the  irresistible  maturing  of  the  general 
mind,  the  Christian  traditions  have  lost  their  hold. 
The  dogma  of  the  mystic  offices  of  Christ  being 
dropped,  and  he  standing  on  his  genius  as  a moral 
teacher,  it  is  impossible  to  maintain  the  old  empha- 
sis of  his  personality ; and  it  recedes,  as  all  per- 
sons must,  before  the  sublimity  of  the  moral  laws. 
From  this  change,  and  in  the  momentary  absence 
of  any  religious  genius  that  could  offset  the  im« 


WORSHIP. 


201 


mense  material  activity,  there  is  a feeling  that 
religion  is  gone.  When  Paul  Leroux  offered  his 
article  “ Dieu  ” to  the  conductor  of  a leading 
French  journal,  he  replied,  “ La  question  de  Dieu 
manque  d'actualitS .”  In  Italy,  Mr.  Gladstone 

said  of  the  late  King  of  Naples,  “It  has  been  a 
proverb  that  he  has  erected  the  negation  of  God 
into  a system  of  government.”  In  this  country 
the  like  stupefaction  was  in  the  air,  and  the  phrase 
“ higher  law  ” became  a political  jibe.  What  proof 
of  infidelity  like  the  toleration  and  propagandism 
of  slavery  ? What,  like  the  direction  of  education  ? 
What,  like  the  facility  of  conversion  ? What,  like 
the  externality  of  churches  that  once  sucked  the 
roots  of  right  and  wrong,  and  now  have  perished 
away  till  they  are  a speck  of  whitewash  on  the 
wall?  What  proof  of  skepticism  like  the  base 
rate  at  which  the  highest  mental  and  moral  gifts 
are  held  ? Let  a man  attain  the  highest  and 
broadest  culture  that  any  American  has  possessed, 
then  let  him  die  by  sea-storm,  railroad  collision,  or 
other  accident,  and  all  America  will  acquiesce  that 
the  best  thing  has  happened  to  him ; that,  after 
the  education  has  gone  far,  such  is  the  expensive- 
ness of  America  that  the  best  use  to  put  a fine 
person  to  is  to  drown  him  to  save  his  board. 

Another  scar  of  this  skepticism  is  the  distrust  in 
human  virtue.  It  is  believed  by  well-dressed  pro- 


202 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


prietors  that  there  is  no  more  virtue  than  they  pos- 
sess ; that  the  solid  portion  of  society  exist  for 
the  arts  of  comfort ; that  life  is  an  affair  to  put 
somewhat  between  the  upper  and  lower  mandibles. 
How  prompt  the  suggestion  of  a low  motive  ! Cer- 
tain patriots  in  England  devoted  themselves  for 
years  to  creating  a public  opinion  that  should 
break  down  the  corn-laws  and  establish  free  trade. 
6 Well,’  says  the  man  in  the  street,  6 Cobden  got 
a stipend  out  of  it.’  Kossuth  fled  hither  across  the 
ocean  to  try  if  he  could  rouse  the  New  World  to 
a sympathy  with  European  liberty.  6 Aye,’  says 
New  York,  4 he  made  a handsome  thing  of  it, 
enough  to  make  him  comfortable  for  life.’ 

See  what  allowance  vice  finds  in  the  respectable 
and  well -conditioned  class.  If  a pickpocket  in- 
trude into  the  society  of  gentlemen,  they  exert  what 
moral  force  they  have,  and  he  finds  himself  uncom- 
fortable and  glad  to  get  away.  But  if  an  adven- 
turer go  through  all  the  forms,  procure  himself  to 
be  elected  to  a post  of  trust,  as  of  senator  or  presi- 
dent, though  by  the  same  arts  as  we  detest  in  the 
house-thief,  — the  same  gentlemen  who  agree  to 
discountenance  the  private  rogue  will  be  forward 
to  show  civilities  and  marks  of  respect  to  the  pub- 
lic one  ; and  no  amount  of  evidence  of  his  crimes 
will  prevent  them  giving  him  ovations,  compliment- 
ary dinners,  opening  their  own  houses  to  him  and 


WORSHIP . 


203 


priding  themselves  on  his  acquaintance.  We  were 
not  deceived  by  the  professions  of  the  private  ad- 
venturer, — the  louder  he  talked  of  his  honor,  the 
faster  we  counted  our  spoons ; but  we  appeal  to 
the  sanctified  preamble  of  the  messages  and  proc- 
lamations of  the  public  sinner,  as  the  proof  of 
sincerity.  It  must  be  that  they  who  pay  this  hom- 
age have  said  to  themselves,  On  the  whole,  we  don’t 
know  about  this  that  you  call  honesty ; a bird  in 
the  hand  is  better. 

Even  well-disposed,  good  sort  of  people  are 
touched  with  the  same  infidelity,  and,  for  brave, 
straightforward  action,  use  half -measures  and  com- 
promises. Forgetful  that  a little  measure  is  a 
great  error,  forgetful  that  a wise  mechanic  uses  a 
sharp  tool,  they  go  on  choosing  the  dead  men  of 
routine.  But  the  official  men  can  in  nowise  help 
you  in  any  question  of  to-day,  they  deriving  en- 
tirely from  the  old  dead  things.  Only  those  can 
help  in  counsel  or  conduct  who  did  not  make  a 
party  pledge  to  defend  this  or  that,  but  who  were 
appointed  by  God  Almighty,  before  they  came  into 
the  world,  to  stand  for  this  which  they  uphold. 

It  has  been  charged  that  a want  of  sincerity  in 
the  leading  men  is  a vice  general  throughout  Amer- 
ican society.  But  the  multitude  of  the  sick  shall 
not  make  us  deny  the  existence  of  health.  In  spite 
of  our  imbecility  and  terrors,  and  “ universal  decay 


204 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


of  religion,”  &c.  &c.,  the  moral  sense  reappears  to- 
day with  the  same  morning  newness  that  has  been 
from  of  old  the  fountain  of  beauty  and  strength. 
You  say  there  is  no  religion  now.  ’Tis  like  saying 
in  rainy  weather,  There  is  no  sun,  when  at  that 
moment  we  are  witnessing  one  of  his  superlative 
effects.  The  religion  of  the  cultivated  class  now, 
to  be  sure,  consists  in  an  avoidance  of  acts  and 
engagements  which  it  was  once  their  religion  to 
assume.  But  this  avoidance  will  yield  spontane- 
ous forms  in  their  due  hour.  There  is  a principle 
which  is  the  basis  of  things,  which  all  speech  aims 
to  say,  and  all  action  to  evolve,  a simple,  quiet, 
undescribed,  undescribable  presence,  dwelling  very 
peacefully  in  us,  our  rightful  lord : we  are  not  to 
do,  but  to  let  do  ; not  to  work,  but  to  be  worked 
upon  ; and  to  this  homage  there  is  a consent  of  all 
thoughtful  and  just  men  in  all  ages  and  conditions. 
To  this  sentiment  belong  vast  and  sudden  enlarge- 
ments of  power.  ’T  is  remarkable  that  our  faith 
in  ecstasy  consists  with  total  inexperience  of  it.  It 
is  the  order  of  the  world  to  educate  with  accuracy 
the  senses  and  the  understanding;  and  the  enginery 
at  work  to  draw  out  these  powers  in  priority,  no 
doubt  has  its  office.  But  we  are  never  without  a 
hint  that  these  powers  are  mediate  and  servile,  and 
that  we  are  one  day  to  deal  with  real  being,  — es- 
sences with  essences.  Even  the  fury  of  materia] 


WORSHIP. 


205 


activity  has  some  results  friendly  to  moral  health. 
The  energetic  action  of  the  times  develops  individ- 
ualism, and  the  religious  appear  isolated.  I esteem 
this  a step  in  the  right  direction.  Heaven  deals 
with  us  on  no  representative  system.  Souls  are  not 
saved  in  bundles.  The  Spirit  saith  to  the  man, 
4 How  is  it  with  thee  ? thee  personally  ? is  it  well  ? 
is  it  ill?’  For  a great  nature  it  is  a happiness  to 
escape  a religious  training,  — religion  of  character 
is  so  apt  to  be  invaded.  Religion  must  always  be 
a crab  fruit ; it  cannot  be  grafted  and  keep  its 
wild  beauty.  46 1 have  seen,”  said  a traveller  who 
had  known  the  extremes  of  society,  44 1 have  seen 
human  nature  in  all  its  forms ; it  is  everywhere  the 
same,  but  the  wilder  it  is,  the  more  virtuous.” 

W e say  the  old  forms  of  religion  decay,  and  that 
a skepticism  devastates  the  community.  I do  not 
think  it  can  be  cured  or  stayed  by  any  modification 
of  theologic  creeds,  much  less  by  theologic  disci- 
pline. The  cure  for  false  theology  is  motlier-wit. 
Forget  your  books  and  traditions,  and  obey  your 
moral  perceptions  at  this  hour.  That  which  is  sig- 
nified by  the  words  44  moral  ” and  44  spiritual,”  is 
a lasting  essence,  and,  with  whatever  illusions  we 
have  loaded  them,  will  certainly  bring  back  the 
words,  age  after  age,  to  their  ancient  meaning.  I 
know  no  words  that  mean  so  much.  In  our  defini- 
tions we  grope  after  the  spiritual  by  describing  it 


206 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


as  invisible.  The  true  meaning  of  spiritual  is  real; 
that  law  which  executes  itself,  which  works  without 
means,  and  which  cannot  be  conceived  as  not  exist- 
ing. Men  talk  of  u mere  morality,”  — which  is 
much  as  if  one  should  say,  6 Poor  God,  with  nobody 
to  help  him.’  I find  the  omnipresence  and  the  al- 
mightiness  in  the  reaction  of  every  atom  in  Nature. 
I can  best  indicate  by  examples  those  reactions  by 
which  every  part  of  Nature  replies  to  the  purpose 
of  the  actor,  — beneficently  to  the  good,  penally  to 
the  bad.  Let  us  replace  sentimentalism  by  realism, 
and  dare  to  uncover  those  simple  and  terrible  laws 
which,  be  they  seen  or  unseen,  pervade  and  govern. 

Everyman  takes  care  that  his  neighbor  shall  not 
cheat  him.  But  a day  comes  when  he  begins  to 
care  that  he  do  not  cheat  his  neighbor.  Then  all 
goes  well.  He  has  changed  his  market-cart  into  a 
chariot  of  the  sun.  What  a day  dawns  when  we 
have  taken  to  heart  the  doctrine  of  faith ! to  pre- 
fer, as  a better  investment,  being  to  doing ; being 
to  seeming ; logic  to  rhythm  and  to  display ; the 
year  to  the  day ; the  life  to  the  year  ; character  to 
performance  ; — and  have  come  to  know  that  jus- 
tice will  be  done  us ; and  if  our  genius  is  slow, 
the  term  will  be  long. 

It  is  certain  that  worship  stands  in  some  com- 
manding relation  to  the  health  of  man  and  to  his 
highest  powers,  so  as  to  be  in  some  manner  the 


WORSHIP . 


207 


source  of  intellect.  All  the  great  ages  have  been 
ages  of  belief.  I mean,  when  there  was  any  ex- 
traordinary power  of  performance,  when  great  na- 
tional movements  began,  when  arts  appeared,  when 
heroes  existed,  when  poems  were  made,  — the  hu- 
man sold  was  in  earnest,  and  had  fixed  its  thoughts 
on  spiritual  verities  with  as  strict  a grasp  as  that 
of  the  hands  on  the  sword,  or  the  pencil,  or  the 
trowel.  It  is  true  that  genius  takes  its  rise  out  of 
the  mountains  of  rectitude  ; that  all  beauty  and 
power  which  men  covet  are  somehow  born  out  of 
that  Alpine  district;  that  any  extraordinary  de- 
gree of  beauty  in  man  or  woman  involves  a moral 
charm.  Thus  I think  we  very  slowly  admit  in  an- 
other man  a higher  degree  of  moral  sentiment  than 
our  own,  — a finer  conscience,  more  impressionable 
or  which  marks  minuter  degrees;  an  ear  to  hear 
acuter  notes  of  right  and  wrong  than  we  can.  I 
think  we  listen  suspiciously  and  very  slowly  to  any 
evidence  to  that  point.  But,  once  satisfied  of  such 
superiority,  we  set  no  limit  to  our  expectation  of 
his  genius.  For  such  persons  are  nearer  to  the  se- 
cret of  God  than  others  ; are  bathed  by  sweeter 
waters ; they  hear  notices,  they  see  visions,  where 
others  are  vacant.  We  believe  that  holiness  con- 
fers a certain  insight,  because  not  by  our  private 
but  by  our  public  force  can  we  share  and  know  the 
nature  of  things. 


208 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


There  is  an  intimate  interdependence  of  intellect 
and  morals.  Given  the  equality  of  two  intellects, 
— which  will  form  the  most  reliable  judgments, 
the  good,  or  the  bad  hearted  ? “ The  heart  has  its 

arguments,  with  which  the  understanding  is  not 
acquainted.”  For  the  heart  is  at  once  aware  of  the 
state  of  health  or  disease,  which  is  the  controlling 
state,  that  is,  — of  sanity  or  of  insanity;  prior  of 
course  to  all  question  of  the  ingenuity  of  argu- 
ments, the  amount  of  facts,  or  the  elegance  of  rhet- 
oric. So  intimate  is  this  alliance  of  mind  and 
heart,  that  talent  uniformly  sinks  with  character. 
The  bias  of  errors  of  principle  carries  away  men 
into  perilous  courses  as  soon  as  their  will  does  not 
control  their  passion  or  talent.  Hence  the  extraor- 
dinary blunders  and  final  wrong  head  into  which 
men  spoiled  by  ambition  usually  fall.  Hence  the 
remedy  for  all  blunders,  the  cure  of  blindness,  the 
cure  of  crime,  is  love.  “ As  much  love,  so  much 
mind,”  said  the  Latin  proverb.  The  superiority 
that  has  no  superior ; the  redeemer  and  instructor 
of  souls,  as  it  is  their  primal  essence,  is  love. 

The  moral  must  be  the  measure  of  health.  If 
your  eye  is  on  the  eternal,  your  intellect  will  grow, 
and  your  opinions  and  actions  will  have  a beauty 
which  no  learning  or  combined  advantages  of  other 
men  can  rival.  The  moment  of  your  loss  of  faith 
and  acceptance  of  the  lucrative  standard  will  be 


WORSHIP. 


209 


marked  in  the  pause  or  solstice  of  genius,  the  se- 
quent retrogression,  and  the  inevitable  loss  of  attrac- 
tion to  other  minds.  The  vulgar  are  sensible  of  the 
change  in  you,  and  of  your  descent,  though  they 
clap  you  on  the  back  and  congratulate  you  on  your 
increased  common-sense. 

Our  recent  culture  has  been  in  natural  science. 
W e have  learned  the  manners  of  the  sun  and  of  the 
moon,  of  the  rivers  and  the  rain,  of  the  mineral 
and  elemental  kingdoms,  of  plants  and  animals. 
Man  has  learned  to  weigh  the  sun,  and  its  weight 
neither  loses  nor  gains.  The  path  of  a star,  the 
moment  of  an  eclipse,  can  be  determined  to  the 
fraction  of  a second.  Well,  to  him  the  book  of 
history,  the  book  of  love,  the  lures  of  passion  and 
the  commandments  of  duty  are  opened  ; and  the 
next  lesson  taught  is  the  continuation  of  the  inflex- 
ible law  of  matter  into  the  subtile  kingdom  of  will 
and  of  thought;  that  if  in  sidereal  ages  gravity 
and  projection  keep  their  craft,  and  the  ball  never 
loses  its  way  in  its  wild  path  through  space,  — a 
secreter  gravitation,  a secreter  projection  rule  not 
less  tyrannically  in  human  history,  and  keep  the 
balance  of  power  from  age  to  age  unbroken.  For 
though  the  new  element  of  freedom  and  an  indi- 
vidual has  been  admitted,  yet  the  primordial  atoms 
are  prefigured  and  predetermined  to  moral  issues, 
are  in  search  of  justice,  and  ultimate  right  is  done. 
14 


VOL.  VI. 


210 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


Religion  or  worship  is  the  attitude  of  those  who  see 
this  unity,  intimacy,  and  sincerity;  who  see  that 
against  all  appearances  the  nature  of  things  works 
for  truth  and  right  forever. 

It  is  a short  sight  to  limit  our  faith  in  laws  to 
those  of  gravity,  of  chemistry,  of  botany,  and  so 
forth.  Those  laws  do  not  stop  where  our  eyes  lose 
them,  but  push  the  same  geometry  and  chemistry 
up  into  the  invisible  plane  of  social  and  rational 
life,  so  that  look  where  we  will,  in  a boy’s  game, 
or  in  the  strifes  of  races,  a perfect  reaction,  a 
perpetual  judgment  keeps  watch  and  ward.  And 
this  appears  in  a class  of  facts  which  concerns  all 
men,  within  and  above  their  creeds. 

Shallow  men  believe  in  luck,  believe  in  circum- 
stances : it  was  somebody’s  name,  or  he  happened 
to  be  there  at  the  time,  or  it  was  so  then  and  an- 
other day  it  would  have  been  otherwise.  Strong 
men  believe  in  cause  and  effect.  The  man  was 
born  to  do  it,  and  his  father  was  born  to  be  the 
father  of  him  and  of  his  deed ; and  by  looking  nar- 
rowly you  shall  see  there  was  no  luck  in  the  mat- 
ter ; but  it  was  all  a problem  in  arithmetic,  or  an 
experiment  in  chemistry.  The  curve  of  the  flight 
of  the  moth  is  preordained,  and  all  things  go  by 
number,  rule,  and  weight. 

Skepticism  is  unbelief  in  cause  and  effect., A 

man  does  not  see  that  as  he  eats,  so  he  thinks;  a§^ 


WORSHIP. 


211 


lie  deals,  so  lie  is,  and  so  lie  appears  ; he  does  not 
see  that  his  son  is  the  son  of  his  thoughts.. and 
of  his  actions ; that  fortunes  are  not  exceptions 
but  fruits  ; that  relation  and  cormeetion  are  not 
somewhere  and  sometimes,  but  everywhere  and  al- 
ways ; no  miscellany,  no  exemption,  no  anomaly,  — 
but  method,  and  an  even  web ; and  what  conies  out, 
that  was  put  in.  As  we  are*  so  we  do ; and  as  we 
do,  so  is  it  done  to  us  ; we  are  the  builders  of  our 
fortunes ; cant  and  lying  and  the  attempt  to  secure 
a good  which  does  not  belong  to  us,  are,  once  for 
all,  balked  and  vain.  But,  in  the  human  mind,  this 
tie  of  fate  is  made  alive.  The  law  is  the  basis  of 
the  human  mind.  In  us,  it  is  inspiration j out 
there  in  Nature  we  see  its  fatal  strength.  Wa  call 
it  the  moral  sentiment. 

We  owe  to  the  Hindoo  Scriptures  a definition  of 
Law,  which  compares  well  with  any  in  our  W estern 
books.  “Law  it  is,  which  is  without  name,  or 
color,  or  hands,  or  feet ; which  is  smallest  of  the 
least,  and  largest  of  the  large ; all,  and  knowing 
all  things ; which  hears  without  ears,  sees  with- 
out eyes,  moves  without  feet,  and  seizes  without 
hands.” 

If  any  reader  tax  me  with  using  vague  and  tra- 
ditional phrases,  let  me  suggest  to  him  by  a few 
examples  what  kind  of  a trust  this  is,  and  how  real. 
Let  me  show  him  that  the  dice  are  loaded;  that 


212 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


the  colors  are  fast,  because  they  are  the  native  col- 
ors of  the  fleece ; that  the  globe  is  a battery,  be- 
cause every  atom  is  a magnet ; and  that  the  police 
and  sincerity  of  the  Universe  are  secured  by  God’s 
delegating  his  divinity  to  every  particle ; that  there 
is  no  room  for  hypocrisy,  no  margin  for  choice. 

The  countryman  leaving  his  native  village  for 
the  first  time  and  going  abroad,  finds  all  his  habits 
broken  up.  In  a new  nation  and  language,  his 
sect,  as  Quaker,  or  Lutheran,  is  lost.  What ! it  is 
not  then  necessary  to  the  order  and  existence  of  so- 
ciety? He  misses  this,  and  the  commanding  eye 
of  his  neighborhood,  which  held  him  to  decorum. 
This  is  the  peril  of  New  York,  of  New  Orleans,  of 
London,  of  Paris,  to  young  men.  But  after  a little 
experience  he  makes  the  discovery  that  there  are 
no  large  cities,  — none  large  enough  to  hide  in ; 
that  the  censors  of  action  are  as  numerous  and  as 
near  in  Paris,  as  in  Littleton  or  Portland ; that  the 
gossip  is  as  prompt  and  vengeful.  There  is  no  con- 
cealment, and  for  each  offence  a several  vengeance ; 
that  reaction,  or  nothing  for  nothing , or,  things 
are  as  broad  as  they  are  long , is  not  a rule  for 
Littleton  or  Portland,  but  for  the  Universe. 

We  cannot  spare  the  coarsest  muniment  of  vir- 
tue. We  are  disgusted  by  gossip,  yet  it  is  of 
importance  to  keep  the  angels  in  their  proprieties. 
The  smallest  fly  will  draw  blood,  and  gossip  is  a 


WORSHIP. 


213 


weapon  impossible  to  exclude  from  the  privatest, 
highest,  selectest.  Nature  created  a police  of  many 
ranks.  God  has  delegated  himself  to  a million  dep- 
uties. From  these  low  external  penalties  the  scale 
ascends.  Next  come  the  resentments,  the  fears, 
which  injustice  calls  out ; then  the  false  relations 
in  which  the  offender  is  put  to  other  men ; and  the 
reaction  of  his  fault  on  himself,  in  the  solitude  and 
devastation  of  his  mind. 

You  cannot  hide  any  secret.  If  the  artist  succor 
his  flagging  spirits  by  opium  or  wine,  his  work  will 
characterize  itself  as  the  effect  of  opium  or  wine. 
If  you  make  a picture  or  a statue,  it  sets  the  be- 
holder in  that  state  of  mind  you  had  when  you 
made  it.  If  you  spend  for  show,  on  building,  or 
gardening,  or  on  pictures,  or  on  equipages,  it  will 
so  appear.  We  are  all  physiognomists  and  pene- 
trators  of  character,  and  things  themselves  are  de- 
tective. If  you  follow  the  suburban  fashion  in 
building  a sumptuous  - looking  house  for  a little 
money,  it  will  appear  to  all  eyes  as  a cheap  dear 
house.  There  is  no  privacy  that  cannot  be  pene- 
trated. No  secret  can  be  kept  in  the  civilized 
world.  Society  is  a masked  ball,  where  every  one 
hides  his  real  character,  and  reveals  it  by  hiding. 
If  a man  wish  to  conceal  anything  he  carries,  those 
whom  he  meets  know  that  he  conceals  somewhat, 
and  usually  know  what  he  conceals.  Is  it  other- 


214 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


wise  if  there  be  some  belief  or  some  purpose  he 
would  bury  in  his  breast  ? ’T  is  as  hard  to  hide  as 
fire.  He  is  a strong  man  who  can  hold  down  his 
opinion.  A man  cannot  utter  two  or  three  sen- 
tences without  disclosing  to  intelligent  ears  pre- 
cisely where  he  stands  in  life  and  thought,  namely, 
whether  in  the  kingdom  of  the  senses  and  the  un- 
derstanding, or  in  that  of  ideas  and  imagination, 
in  the  realm  of  intuitions  and  duty.  People  seem 
not  to  see  that  their  opinion  of  the  world  is  also  a 
confession  of  character.  We  can  only  see  what  we 
are,  and  if  we  misbehave  we  suspect  others.  The 
fame  of  Shakspeare  or  of  Voltaire,  of  Thomas  a 
Kempis  or  of  Bonaparte,  characterizes  those  who 
give  it.  As  gas-light  is  found  to  be  the  best  noc- 
turnal police,  so  the  universe  protects  itself  by  piti- 
less publicity. 

Each  must  be  armed — not  necessarily  with  mus- 
ket and  pike.  Happy,  if,  seeing  these,  he  can  feel 
that  he  has  better  muskets  and  pikes  in  his  en- 
ergy and  constancy.  To  every  creature  is  his  own 
weapon,  however  skilfully  concealed  from  himself, 
a good  while.  His  work  is  sword  and  shield. 
Let  him  accuse  none,  let  him  injure  none.  The 
way  to  mend  the  bad  world  is  to  create  the  right 
world.  Here  is  a low  political  economy  plotting  to 
cut  the  throat  of  foreign  competition  and  establish 
our  own  ; excluding  others  by  force,  or  making 


worship. 


215 


war  on  them  ; or  by  cunning  tariffs  giving  prefer- 
ence to  worse  wares  of  ours.  But  the  real  and 
lasting  victories  are  those  of  peace  and  not  of  war. 
The  way  to  conquer  the  foreign  artisan  is,  not  to 
kill  him,  but  to  beat  his  work.  And  the  Crystal 
Palaces  and  World  Fairs,  with  their  committees 
and  prizes  on  all  kinds  of  industry,  are  the  re- 
sult of  this  feeling.  The  American  workman  who 
strikes  ten  blows  with  his  hammer  whilst  the  for- 
eign workman  only  strikes  one,  is  as  really  van- 
quishing that  foreigner  as  if  the  blows  were  aimed 
at  and  told  on  his  person.  I look  on  that  man 
as  happy,  who,  when  there  is  question  of  success, 
looks  into  his  work  for  a reply,  not  into  the  market, 
not  into  opinion,  not  into  patronage.  In  every  va- 
riety of  human  employment,  in  the  mechanical  and 
in  the  fine  arts,  in  navigation,  in  farming,  in  legis- 
lating, there  are,  among  the  numbers  who  do  their 
task  perfunctorily,  as  we  say,  or  just  to  pass,  and 
as  badly  as  they  dare,  — there  are  the  working- 
men, on  whom  the  burden  of  the  business  falls ; 
those  who  love  work,  and  love  to  see  it  rightly 
clone ; who  finish  their  task  for  its  own  sake  ; and 
the  state  and  the  world  is  happy  that  has  the  most 
of  such  finishers.  The  world  will  always  do  justice 
at  last  to  such  finishers  ; it  cannot  otherwise.  He 
who  has  acquired  the  ability  may  wait  securely  the 
occasion  of  making  it  felt  and  appreciated,  and 


216  CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 

know  that  it  will  not  loiter.  Men  talk  as  if  vic- 
tory were  something  fortunate.  Work  is  victory. 
Wherever  work  is  done,  victory  is  obtained.  There 
is  no  chance,  and  no  blanks.  You  want  but  one 
verdict ; if  you  have  your  own  you  are  secure  of 
the  rest.  And  yet,  if  witnesses  are  wanted,  wit- 
nesses are  near.  There  was  never  a man  born  so 
wise  or  good  but  one  or  more  companions  came 
into  the  world  with  him,  who  delight  in  his  faculty 
and  report  it.  I cannot  see  without  awe  that  no 
man  thinks  alone  and  no  man  acts  alone,  but  the 
divine  assessors  who  came  up  with  him  into  life, 
— now  under  one  disguise,  now  under  another, 
like  a police  in  citizens’  clothes,  — walk  with  him, 
step  for  step,  through  all  the  kingdom  of  time. 

This  reaction,  this  sincerity  is  the  property  of 
all  things.  To  make  our  word  or  act  sublime,  we 
must  make  it  real.  It  is  our  system  that  counts, 
not  the  single  word  or  unsupported  action.  Use 
what  language  you  will,  you  can  never  say  any- 
thing but  what  you  are.  What  I am  and  what  I 
think  is  conveyed  to  you,  in  spite  of  my  efforts  to 
hold  it  back.  What  I am  has  been  secretly  con- 
veyed from  me  to  another,  whilst  I was  vainly 
making  up  my  mind  to  tell  him  it.  He  has  heard 
from  me  what  I never  spoke. 

As  men  get  on  in  life,  they  acquire  a love  for 
sincerity,  and  somewhat  less  solicitude  to  be  lulled 


WORSHIP. 


217 


or  amused.  In  the  progress  of  the  character,  there 
is  an  increasing  faith  in  the  moral  sentiment,  and 
a decreasing  faith  in  propositions.  Young  people 
admire  talents  and  particular  excellences.  As  we 
grow  older  we  value  total  powers  and  effects,  as 
the  spirit  or  quality  of  the  man.  W e have  another 
sight,  and  a new  standard  ; an  insight  which  disre- 
gards what  is  done  for  the  eye,  and  pierces  to  the 
doer ; an  ear  which  hears  not  what  men  say,  but 
hears  what  they  do  not  say. 

There  was  a wise,  devout  man  who  is  called,  in 
the  Catholic  Church,  St.  Philip  Neri,  of  whom 
many  anecdotes  touching  his  discernment  and  be- 
nevolence are  told  at  Naples  and  Rome.  Among 
the  nuns  in  a convent  not  far  from  Rome,  one  had 
appeared  who  laid  claim  to  certain  rare  gifts  of 
inspiration  and  prophecy,  and  the  abbess  advised 
the  Holy  Father  at  Rome  of  the  wonderful  powers 
shown  by  her  novice.  The  Pope  did  not  well  know 
what  to  make  of  these  new  claims,  and  Philip  com- 
ing in  from  a journey  one  day,  he  consulted  him. 
Philip  undertook  to  visit  the  nun  and  ascertain 
her  character.  He  threw  himself  on  his  mule,  all 
travel-soiled  as  he  was,  and  hastened  through  the 
mud  and  mire  to  the  distant  convent.  He  told  the 
abbess  the  wishes  of  his  Holiness,  and  begged  her 
to  summon  the  nun  without  delay.  The  nun  was 
sent  for,  and  as  soon  as  she  came  into  the  apart- 


218 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


ment,  Philip  stretched  out  his  leg,  all  bespattered 
with  mud,  and  desired  her  to  draw  off  his  boots. 
The  young  nun,  who  had  become  the  object  of  much 
attention  and  respect,  drew  back  with  anger,  and 
refused  the  office : Philip  ran  out  of  doors,  mounted 
his  mule  and  returned  instantly  to  the  Pope ; 
“ Give  yourself  no  uneasiness,  Holy  Father,  any 
longer:  here  is  no  miracle,  for  here  is  no  humility.” 
W e need  not  much  mind  what  people  please  to 
say,  but  what  they  must  say;  what  their  natures 
say,  though  their  busy,  artful,  Yankee  understand- 
ings try  to  hold  back  and  choke  that  word,  and 
to  articulate  something  different.  If  we  will  sit 
quietly,  what  they  ought  to  say  is  said,  with  their 
will  or  against  their  will.  We  do  not  care  for 
you,  let  us  pretend  what  we  may  : — we  are  always 
looking  through  you  to  the  dim  dictator  behind  you. 
Whilst  your  habit  or  whim  chatters,  we  civilly  and 
impatiently  wait  until  that  wise  superior  shall  speak 
again.  Even  children  are  not  deceived  by  the  false 
reasons  which  their  parents  give  in  answer  to  their 
questions,  whether  touching  natural  facts,  or  relig- 
ion, or  persons.  When  the  parent,  instead  of 
thinking  how  it  really  is,  puts  them  off  with  a 
traditional  or  a hypocritical  answer,  the  children 
perceive  that  it  is  traditional  or  hypocritical.  To  a 
sound  constitution  the  defect  of  another  is  at  once 
manifest ; and  the  marks  of  it  are  only  concealed 


WORSHIP. 


219 


from  us  by  our  own  dislocation.  An  anatomical 
observer  remarks  that  the  sympathies  of  the  chest, 
abdomen,  and  pelvis,  tell  at  last  on  the  face,  and 
on  all  its  features.  Not  only  does  our  beauty 
waste,  but  it  leaves  word  how  it  went  to  waste. 
Physiognomy  and  phrenology  are  not  new  sciences, 
but  declarations  of  the  soul  that  it  is  aware  of 
certain  new  sources  of  information.  And  now 
sciences  of  broader  scope  are  starting  up  behind 
these.  And  so  for  ourselves  it  is  really  of  little 
importance  what  blunders  in  statement  we  make, 
so  only  we  make  no  wilful  departures  from  the 
truth.  How  a man’s  truth  comes  to  mind,  long 
after  we  have  forgotten  all  his  words ! How  it 
comes  to  us  in  silent  hours,  that  truth  is  our  only 
armor  in  all  passages  of  life  and  death ! Wit  is 
cheap,  and  anger  is  cheap ; but  if  you  cannot  argue 
or  explain  yourself  to  the  other  party,  cleave  to 
the  truth,  against  me  against  thee,  and  you  gain  a 
station  from  which  you  cannot  be  dislodged.  The 
other  party  will  forget  the  words  that  you  spoke, 
but  the  part  you  took  continues  to  plead  for  you. 

Why  should  I hasten  to  solve  every  riddle  which 
life  offers  me  ? I am  well  assured  that  the  Ques- 
tioner who  brings  me  so  many  problems  will  bring 
the  answers  also  in  due  time.  Very  rich,  very  po- 
tent, very  cheerful  Giver  that  he  is,  he  shall  have  it 
all  his  own  way,  for  me.  Why  should  I give  up 


220 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


my  thought,  because  I cannot  answer  an  objection 
to  it  ? Consider  only  whether  it  remains  in  my 
life  the  same  it  was.  That  only  which  we  have 
within,  can  we  see  without.  If  we  meet  no  gods, 
it  is  because  we  harbor  none.  If  there  is  grand- 
eur in  you,  you  will  find  grandeur  in  porters  and 
sweeps.  He  only  is  rightly  immortal  to  whom  all 
things  are  immortal.  I have  read  somewhere  that 
none  is  accomplished  so  long  as  any  are  incom- 
plete ; that  the  happiness  of  one  cannot  consist  with 
the  misery  of  any  other. 

The  Buddhists  say,  “ No  seed  will  die : ” every 
seed  will  grow.  Where  is  the  service  which  can 
escape  its  remuneration  ? What  is  vulgar,  and  the 
essence  of  all  vulgarity,  but  the  avarice  of  reward  ? 
’T  is  the  difference  of  artisan  and  artist,  of  talent 
and  genius,  of  sinner  and  saint.  The  man  whose 
eyes  are  nailed,  not  on  the  nature  of  his  act  but  on 
the  wages,  whether  it  be  money,  or  office,  or  fame, 
is  almost  equally  low.  He  is  great  whose  eyes  are 
opened  to  see  that  the  reward  of  actions  cannot  be 
escaped,  because  he  is  transformed  into  his  action, 
and  taketh  its  nature,  which  bears  its  own  fruit, 
like  every  other  tree.  A great  man  cannot  be  hin- 
dered of  the  effect  of  his  act,  because  it  is  immedi- 
ate. The  genius  of  life  is  friendly  to  the  noble, 
and  in  the  dark  brings  them  friends  from  far. 
Fear  God,  and  where  you  go,  men  shall  think  they 
walk  in  hallowed  cathedrals. 


WORSHIP. 


221 


And  so  I look  on  those  sentiments  which  make 
the  glory  of  the  human  being,  love,  humility,  faith, 
as  being  also  the  intimacy  of  Divinity  in  the  atoms ; 
and  that  as  soon  as  the  man  is  right,  assurances 
and  previsions  emanate  from  the  interior  of  his 
body  and  his  mind  ; as,  when  flowers  reach  their 
ripeness,  incense  exhales  from  them,  and  as  a 
beautiful  atmosphere  is  generated  from  the  planet 
by  the  averaged  emanations  from  all  its  rocks  and 
soils. 

Thus  man  is  made  equal  to  every  event.  He 
can  face  danger  for  the  right.  A poor,  tender, 
painful  body,  he  can  run  into  flame  or  bullets  or 
pestilence,  with  duty  for  his  guide.  He  feels  the 
insurance  of  a just  employment.  I am  not  afraid 
of  accident  as  long  as  I am  in  my  place.  It  is 
strange  that  superior  persons  should  not  feel  that 
they  have  some  better  resistance  against  cholera 
than  avoiding  green  peas  and  salads.  Life  is  hardly 
respectable,  — is  it  ? if  it  has  no  generous,  guaran- 
teeing task,  no  duties  or  affections  that  constitute 
a necessity  of  existing.  Every  man’s  task  is  his 
life-preserver.  The  conviction  that  his  work  is  dear 
to  God  and  cannot  be  spared,  defends  him.  The 
lightning-rod  that  disarms  the  cloud  of  its  threat 
is  his  body  in  its  duty.  A high  aim  reacts  on 
the  means,  on  the  days,  on  the  organs  of  the 
body.  A high  aim  is  curative,  as  well  as  arnica. 


222 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


44  Napoleon,”  says  Goethe,  44  visited  those  sick  of 
the  plague,  in  order  to  prove  that  the  man  who 
could  vanquish  fear  could  vanquish  the  plague 
also ; and  he  was  right.  It  is  incredible  what 
force  the  will  has  in  such  cases : it  penetrates  the 
body  and  puts  it  in  a state  of  activity  which  re- 
pels all  hurtful  influences ; whilst  fear  invites 
them.”  . 

It  is  related  of  William  of  Orange,  that  whilst 
he  was  besieging  a town  on  the  continent,  a gen- 
tleman sent  to  him  on  public  business  came  to  his 
camp,  and,  learning  that  the  King  was  before  the 
walls,  he  ventured  to  go  where  he  was.  He  found 
him  directing  the  operation  of  his  gunners,  and 
having  explained  his  errand  and  received  his  an- 
swer, the  King  said,  44  Do  you  not  know,  sir,  that 
every  moment  you  spend  here  is  at  the  risk  of  your 
life?”  44 1 run  no  more  risk,”  replied  the  gentle- 
man, 44  than  your  Majesty.”  44  Yes,”  said  the  King, 
44  but  my  duty  brings  me  here,  and  yours  does  not.” 
In  a few  minutes  a cannon-ball  fell  on  the  spot,  and 
the  gentleman  was  killed. 

Thus  can  the  faithful  student  reverse  all  the 
warnings  of  his  early  instinct,  under  the  guidance 
of  a deeper  instinct.  He  learns  to  welcome  mis- 
fortune, learns  that  adversity  is  the  prosperity  of 
the  great.  He  learns  the  greatness  of  humility. 
He  shall  work  in  the  dark,  work  against  failure, 


WORSHIP. 


223 


pain,  and  ill-will.  If  he  is  insulted,  he  can  be 
insulted  ; all  his  affair  is  not  to  insult.  Hafiz 
writes,  — 

“ At  the  last  day,  men  shall  wear 
On  their  heads  the  dust, 

As  ensign  and  as  ornament 
Of  their  lowly  trust.” 

The  moral  equalizes  all ; enriches,  empowers  all. 
It  is  the  coin  which  buys  all,  and  which  all  find  in 
their  pocket.  Under  the  whip  of  the  driver,  the 
slave  shall  feel  his  equality  with  saints  and  heroes. 
In  the  greatest  destitution  and  calamity  it  surprises 
man  with  a feeling  of  elasticity  which  makes  noth- 
ing of  loss. 

I recall  some  traits  of  a remarkable  person  whose 
life  and  discourse  betrayed  many  inspirations  of 
this  sentiment.  Benedict  was  always  great  in  the 
present  time.  He  had  hoarded  nothing  from  the 
past,  neither  in  his  cabinets,  neither  in  his  memory. 
He  had  no  designs  on  the  future,  neither  for  what 
he  should  do  to  men,  nor  for  what  men  should  do 
for  him.  He  said,  “ I am  never  beaten  until  I know 
that  I am  beaten.  I meet  powerful  brutal  people 
to  whom  I have  no  skill  to  reply.  They  think  they 
have  defeated  me.  It  is  so  published  in  society,  in 
the  journals  ; I am  defeated  in  this  fashion,  in  all 
men’s  sight,  perhaps  on  a dozen  different  lines.  My 
ledger  may  show  that  I am  in  debt,  cannot  yet  make 


224 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


my  ends  meet  and  vanquish  the  enemy  so.  My 
race  may  not  be  prospering ; we  are  sick,  ugly, 
obscure,  unpopular.  My  children  may  be  worsted. 
I seem  to  fail  in  my  friends  and  clients,  too.  That 
is  to  say,  in  all  the  encounters  that  have  yet 
chanced,  I have  not  been  weaponed  for  that  par- 
ticular occasion,  and  have  been  historically  beaten ; 
and  yet  I know  all  the  time  that  I have  never 
been  beaten ; have  never  yet  fought,  shall  certainly 
fight  when  my  hour  comes,  and  shall  beat.”  66  A 
man,”  says  the  Vishnu  Sarma,  “ who  having  well 
compared  his  own  strength  or  weakness  with  that 
of  others,  after  all  doth  not  know  the  difference,  is 
easily  overcome  by  his  enemies.” 

“I  spent,”  he  said,  “ten  months  in  the  coun- 
try. Thick-starred  Orion  was  my  only  companion. 
Wherever  a squirrel  or  a bee  can  go  with  security, 
I can  go.  I ate  whatever  was  set  before  me ; I 
touched  ivy  and  dogwood.  When  I went  abroad, 
I kept  company  with  every  man  on  the  road,  for  I 
knew  that  my  evil  and  my  good  did  not  come  from 
these,  but  from  the  Spirit,  whose  servant  I was. 
For  I could  not  stoop  to  be  a circumstance,  as  they 
did  who  put  their  life  into  their  fortune  and  their 
company.  I would  not  degrade  myself  by  casting 
about  in  my  memory  for  a thought,  nor  by  waiting 
for  one.  If  the  thought  come,  I would  give  it 
entertainment.  It  should,  as  it  ought,  go  into  my 


WORSHIP. 


225 


hands  and  feet ; but  if  it  come  not  spontaneously, 
it  comes  not  rightly  at  all.  If  it  can  spare  me,  I 
am  sure  I can  spare  it.  It  shall  be  the  same  with 
my  friends.  I will  never  woo  the  loveliest.  I will 
not  ask  any  friendship  or  favor.  When  I come  to 
my  own,  we  shall  both  know  it.  Nothing  will  be  to 
be  asked  or  to  be  granted.”  Benedict  went  out  to 
seek  his  friend,  and  met  him  on  the  way  ; but  he 
expressed  nc  surprise  at  any  coincidences.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  he  called  at  the  door  of  his  friend 
and  he  was  not  at  home,  he  did  not  go  again; 
concluding  that  he  had  misinterpreted  the  intima- 
tions. 

He  had  the  whim  not  to  make  an  apology  to  the 
same  individual  whom  he  had  wronged.  For  this 
he  said  was  a piece  of  personal  vanity ; but  he 
would  correct  his  conduct,  in  that  respect  in  which 
he  had  faulted,  to  the  next  person  he  should  meet. 
Thus,  he  said,  universal  justice  was  satisfied. 

Mira  came  to  ask  what  she  should  do  with  the 
poor  Genesee  woman  who  had  hired  herself  to 
work  for  her,  at  a shilling  a day,  and,  now  sick- 
ening, was  like  to  be  bedridden  on  her  hands. 
Should  she  keep  her,  or  should  she  dismiss  her  ? 
But  Benedict  said,  64  Why  ask  ? One  thing  will 
clear  itself  as  the  thing  to  be  done,  and  not  an- 
other, when  the  hour  comes.  Is  it  a question 
whether  to  put  her  into  the  street?  Just  as  much 

VOL.  VI.  15 


226 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


whether  to  thrust  the  little  Jenny  on  your  arm  into 
the  street.  The  milk  and  meal  you  give  the  beg- 
gar will  fatten  J enny.  Thrust  the  woman  out,  and 
you  thrust  your  babe  out  of  doors,  whether  it  so 
seem  to  you  or  not.” 

In  the  Shakers,  so  called,  I find  one  piece  of  be- 
lief, in  the  doctrine  which  they  faithfully  hold  that 
encourages  them  to  open  their  doors  to  every  way- 
faring man  who  proposes  to  come  among  them ; for, 
they  say,  the  Spirit  will  presently  manifest  to  the 
man  himself  and  to  the  society  what  manner  of 
person  he  is,  and  whether  he  belongs  among  them. 
They  do  not  receive  him,  they  do  not  reject  him. 
And  not  in  vain  have  they  worn  their  clay  coat, 
and  drudged  in  their  fields,  and  shuffled  in  their 
Bruin  dance,  from  year  to  year,  if  they  have  truly 
learned  thus  much  wisdom. 

Honor  him  whose  life  is  perpetual  victory ; him 
who,  by  sympathy  with  the  invisible  and  real,  finds 
support  in  labor,  instead  of  praise  ; who  does  not 
shine,  and  would  rather  not.  With  eyes  open,  he 
makes  the  choice  of  virtue  which  outrages  the  vir- 
tuous ; of  religion  which  churches  stop  their  dis- 
cords to  burn  and  exterminate ; for  the  highest 
virtue  is  always  against  the  law. 

Miracle  comes  to  the  miraculous,  not  to  the 
arithmetician.  Talent  and  success  interest  me  but 
moderately.  The  great  class,  they  who  affect  our 


WORSHIP. 


227 


imagination,  the  men  who  could  not  make  their 
hands  meet  around  their  objects,  the  rapt,  the  lost, 
the  fools  of  ideas,  — they  suggest  what  they  can- 
not execute.  They  speak  to  the  ages,  and  are 
heard  from  afar.  The  Spirit  does  not  love  cripples 
and  malformations.  If  there  ever  was  a good  man, 
be  certain  there  was  another  and  will  be  more. 

And  so  in  relation  to  that  future  hour,  that  spec- 
tre clothed  with  beauty  at  our  curtain  by  night,  at 
our  table  by  day,  — the  apprehension,  the  assur- 
ance of  a coming  change.  The  race  of  mankind 
have  always  offered  at  least  this  implied  thanks  for 
the  gift  of  existence,  — namely,  the  terror  of  its 
being  taken  away ; the  insatiable  curiosity  and  ap- 
petite for  its  continuation.  The  whole  revelation 
that  is  vouchsafed  us  is  the  gentle  trust,  which,  in 
our  experience  we  find  will  cover  also  with  flowers 
the  slopes  of  this  chasm. 

Of  immortality,  the  soul  when  well  employed  is 
incurious.  It  is  so  well,  that  it  is  sure  it  will  be 
well.  It  asks  no  questions  of  the  Supreme  Power. 
The  son  of  Antiochus  asked  his  father  when  he 
would  join  battle  ? “ Dost  thou  fear,”  replied  the 

King,  “ that  thou  only  in  all  the  army  wilt  not 
hear  the  trumpet  ? ” ’T  is  a higher  thing  to  con- 
fide that  if  it  is  best  we  should  live,  we  shall  live, 
— ’t  is  higher  to  have  this  conviction,  than  to  have 
the  lease  of  indefinite  centuries  and  millenniums  and 


228 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


aeons.  Higher  than  the  question  of  our  duration  is 
the  question  of  our  deserving.  Immortality  will 
come  to  such  as  are  fit  for  it,  and  he  who  would  be 
a great  soul  in  future,  must  be  a great  soul  now. 
It  is  a doctrine  too  great  to  rest  on  any  legend,  that 
is,  on  any  man’s  experience  but  our  own.  It  must 
be  proved,  if  at  all,  from  our  own  activity  and 
designs,  which  imply  an  interminable  future  for 
their  play. 

What  is  called  religion  effeminates  and  demoral- 
izes. Such  as  you  are,  the  gods  themselves  could 
not  help  you.  Men  are  too  often  unfit  to  live,  from 
their  obvious  inequality  to  their  own  necessities ; or 
they  suffer  from  politics,  or  bad  neighbors,  or  from 
sickness,  and  they  would  gladly  know  that  they 
were  to  be  dismissed  from  the  duties  of  life.  But 
the  wise  instinct  asks,  ‘ How  will  death  help  them  ? ’ 
These  are  not  dismissed  when  they  die.  You  shall 
not  wish  for  death  out  of  pusillanimity.  The  weight 
of  the  Universe  is  pressed  down  on  the  shoulders  of 
each  moral  agent  to  hold  him  to  his  task.  The 
only  path  of  escape  known  in  all  the  worlds  of  God 
is  performance.  You  must  do  your  work,  before 
you  shall  be  released.  And  as  far  as  it  is  a ques- 
tion of  fact  respecting  the  government  of  the  Uni- 
verse, Marcus  Antoninus  summed  the  whole  in  a 
word,  “ It  is  pleasant  to  die  if  there  be  gods,  and 
sad  to  live  if  there  be  none.” 


WORSHIP. 


229 


And  so  I think  that  the  last  lesson  of  life,  the 
choral  sons:  which  rises  from  all  elements  and  all 
angels,  is  a voluntary  obedience,  a necessitated 
freedom.  Man  is  made  of  the  same  atoms  as  the 
world  is,  he  shares  the  same  impressions,  predispo- 
sitions, and  destiny.  When  his  mind  is  illumi- 
nated, when  his  heart  is  kind,  he  throws  himself 
joyfully  into  the  sublime  order,  and  does,  with 
knowledge,  what  the  stones  do  by  structure. 

The  religion  which  is  to  guide  and  fulfil  the  pres-  / 
enf'and  coming  ages,  whatever  else  it  be,  must  be 
intellectual.  The  scientific  mind  must  have  a faith 
which  is  science.  “ There  are  two  things,”  said 
Mahomet,  “ which  I abhor,  the  learned  in  his  infi- 
delities, and  the  fool  in  his  devotions.”  Our  times 
are  impatient  of  both,  and  specially  of  the  last. 
Let  us  have  nothing  now  which  is  not  its  own  evi- 
dence. There  is  surely  enough  for  the  heart  and 
imagination  in  the  religion  itself.  Let  us  not  be 
pestered  with  assertions  and  half-truths,  with  emo- 
tions and  snuffle. 

There  will  be  a new  church  founded  on  moral 
science ; at  first  cold  and  naked,  a babe  in  a man- 
ger again,  the  algebra  and  mathematics  of  ethical 
law,  the  church  of  men  to  come,  without  shawms, 
or  psaltery,  or  sackbut ; but  it  will  have  heaven 
and  earth  for  its  beams  and  rafters ; science^  for 
symbol  and  illustration  ; it  will  fast  enough  gather 


230 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


beauty,  music,  picture,  poetry.  Was  never  stoi- 
cism so  stern  and  exigent  as  this  shall  be.  It  shall 
send  man  home  to  his  central  solitude,  shame  these 
social,  supplicating  manners,  and  make  him  know 
that  much  of  the  time  he  must  have  himself  to  his 
friend.  He  shall  expect  no  co-operation,  he  shall 
walk  with  no  companion.  The  nameless  Thought, 
the  nameless  Power,  the  super-personal  Heart,  — 
he  shall  repose  alone  on  that.  He  needs  only  his 
own  verdict.  No  good  fame  can  help,  no  bad  fame 
can  hurt  him.  The  Laws  are  his  consolers,  the 
good  Laws  themselves  are  alive,  they  know  if  he 
have  kept  them,  they  animate  him  with  the  leading 
of  great  duty,  and  an  endless  horizon.  Honor  and 
fortune  exist  to  him  who  always  recognizes  the 
neighborhood  of  the  great,  — always  feels  himself 
in  the  presence  of  high  causes. 


CONSIDERATIONS  BY  THE  WAY. 


Hear  what  British  Merlin  sung, 

Of  keenest  eye  and  truest  tongue. 

Say  not,  the  chiefs  who  first  arrive 
Usurp  the  seats  for  which  all  strive ; 

The  forefathers  this  land  who  found 
Failed  to  plant  the  vantage-ground  ; 

Ever  from  one  who  comes  to-morrow 
Men  wait  their  good  and  truth  to  borrow. 

But  wilt  thou  measure  all  thy  road, 

See  thou  lift  the  lightest  load. 

Who  has  little,  to  him  who  has  less,  can  spare, 
And  thou,  Cyndyllan’s  son ! beware 
Ponderous  gold  and  stuffs  to  bear, 

To  falter  ere  thou  thy  task  fulfil,  — 

Only  the  light-armed  climb  the  hill. 

The  richest  of  all  lords  is  Use, 

And  ruddy  Health  the  loftiest  Muse. 

Live  in  the  sunshine,  swim  the  sea, 

Drink  the  wild  air’s  salubrity  : 

Where  the  star  Canope  shines  in  May, 
Shepherds  are  thankful,  and  nations  gay. 


232 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


The  music  that  can  deepest  reach, 
And  cure  all  ill,  is  cordial  speech : 
Mask  thy  wisdom  with  delight, 

Toy  with  the  how,  yet  hit  the  white. 
Of  all  wit’s  uses,  the  main  one 
Is  to  live  well  with  who  has  none. 
Cleave  to  thine  acre ; the  round  year 
Will  fetch  all  fruits  and  virtues  here : 
Fool  and  foe  may  harmless  roam, 
Loved  and  lovers  bide  at  home. 

A day  for  toil,  an  hour  for  sport, 

But  for  a friend  is  life  too  short. 


CONSIDERATIONS  BY  THE  WAY. 


Although  this  garrulity  of  advising  is  born  with 
us,  I confess  that  life  is  rather  a subject  of  wonder 
than  of  didactics.  So  much  fate,  so  much  irresist- 
ible dictation  from  temperament  and  unknown  in- 
spiration enters  into  it,  that  we  doubt  we  can  say 
anything  out  of  our  own  experience  whereby  to 
help  each  other.  All  the  professions  are  timid 
and  expectant  agencies.  The  priest  is  glad  if  his 
prayers  or  his  sermon  meet  the  condition  of  any 
soul ; if  of  two,  if  of  ten,  ’t  is  a signal  success.  But 
he  walked  to  the  church  without  any  assurance 
that  he  knew  the  distemper,  or  could  heal  it.  .The 
physician  prescribes  hesitatingly  out  of  his  few 
resources  the  same  tonic  or  sedative  to  this  new  and 
peculiar  constitution  which  he  has  applied  with 
various  success  to  a hundred  men  before.  If  the 
patient  mends  he  is  glad  and  surprised.  The  law- 
yer advises  the  client,  and  tells  his  story  to  the 
jury  and  leaves  it  with  them,  and  is  as  gay  and  as 
much  relieved  as  the  client  if  it  turns  out  that  he 
has  a verdict.  The  judge  weighs  the  arguments 
and  puts  a brave  face  on  the  matter,  and,  since 


234 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


there  must  be  a decision,  decides  as  he  can,  and 
hopes  he  has  done  justice  and  given  satisfaction  to 
the  community ; but  is  only  an  advocate  after 
all.  And  so  is  all  life  a timid  and  unskilful  spec- 
tator. We  do  what  we  must,  and  call  it  by  the 
best  names.  We  like  very  well  to  be  praised'for 
our  action,  but  our  conscience  says,  “Not  unto  us.” 
?Tis  little  we  can  do  for  each  other.  We  accom- 
pany the  youth  with  sympathy  and  manifold  old 
sayings  of  the  wise  to  the  gate  of  the  arena,  but 
?t  is  certain  that  not  by  strength  of  ours,  or  of  the 
old  sayings,  but  only  on  strength  of  his  own,  un- 
known to  us  or  to  any,  he  must  stand  or  fall.  That 
by  which  a man  conquers  in  any  passage  is  a pro- 
found secret  to  every  other  being  in  the  world,  and 
it  is  only  as  he  turns  his  back  on  us  and  on  all 
men  and  draws  on  this  most  private  wisdom,  that 
any  good  can  come  to  him.  What  we  have  there- 
fore to  say  of  life,  is  rather  description,  or  if  you 
please,  celebration,  than  available  rule§. 

Yet  vigor  is  contagious,  and  whatever  makes  us 
either  think  or  feel  strongly,  adds  to  our  power 
and  enlarges  our  field  of  action.  We  have  a debt 
to  every  great  heart,  to  every  fine  genius ; to  those 
who  have  put  life  and  fortune  on  the  cast  of  an 
act  of  justice ; to  those  who  have  added  new  sci- 
ences; to  those  who  have  refined  life  by  elegant 
pursuits.  ? T is  the  fine  souls  who  serve  us,  ami 


CONSIDERATIONS  BY  THE  WAY.  285 


not  what  is  called  fine  society.  Fine  society  is 
only  a self -protection  against  the  vulgarities  of  the 
street  and  the  tavern.  Fine  society,  in  the  common 
acceptation,  has  neither  ideas  nor  aims.  It  ren- 
ders the  service  of  a perfumery  or  a laundry,  not 
of  a farm  or  factory.  ’T  is  an  exclusion  and  a 
precinct.  Sydney  Smith  said,  “ A few  yards  in 
London  cement  or  dissolve  friendship.”  It  is  an 
unprincipled  decorum ; an  affair  of  clean  linen  and 
coaches,  of  gloves,  cards,  and  elegance  in  trifles. 
There  are  other  measures  of  self-respect  for  a man 
than  the  number  of  clean  shirts  he  puts  on  every 
day.  Society  wishes  to  be  amused.  I do  not  wish 
to  be  amused.  I wish  that  life  should  not  be  cheap, 
but  sacred.  I wish  the  days  to  be  as  centuries, 
loaded,  fragrant.  Now  we  reckon  them  as  bank- 
days,  by  some  debt  which  is  to  be  paid  us  or  which 
we  are  to  pay,  or  some  pleasure  we  are  to  taste. 
Is  all  we  have  to  do  to  draw  the  breath  in  and 
blow  it  out  again?  Porphyry’s  definition  is  bet- 
ter; “Life  is  that  which  holds  matter  together.” 
The  babe  in  arms  is  a channel  through  which  the 
energies  we  call  fate,  love  and  reason,  visibly  stream. 
See  what  a cometary  train  of  auxiliaries  man  car- 
ries with  him,  of  animals,  plants,  stones,  gases  and 
imponderable  elements.  Let  us  infer  his  ends 
from  this  pomp  of  means.  Mirabeau  said,  “ Why 
should  we  feel  ourselves  to  be  men,  unless  it  be  to 


286 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


succeed  in  everything,  everywhere.  You  must  say 
of  nothing,  That  is  beneath  me , nor  feel  that  any- 
thing can  be  out  of  your  power.  Nothing  is  im- 
possible to  the  man  who  can  will.  Is  that  neces- 
sary ? That  shall  be  : — this  is  the  only  law  of 
success.”  Whoever  said  it,  this  is  in  the  right 
key.  But  this  is  not  the  tone  and  genius  of  the 
men  in  the  street.  In  the  streets  we  grow  cynical. 
The  men  we  meet  are  coarse  and  torpid.  The 
finest  wits  have  their  sediment.  What  quantities 
of  fribbles,  paupers,  invalids,  epicures,  antiquaries, 
politicians,  thieves,  and  triflers  of  both  sexes,  might 
be  advantageously  spared  ! Mankind  divides  it- 
self into  two  classes,  — benefactors  and  malefac- 
tors. The  second  class  is  vast,  the  first  a Handful. 
A person  seldom  falls  sick  but  the  bystanders  are 
animated  with  a faint  hope  that  he  will  die : — 
quantities  of  poor  lives,  of  distressing  invalids,  of 
cases  for  a gun.  Franklin  said,  “ Mankind  are 
very  superficial  and  dastardly : they  begin  upon  a 
thing,  but,  meeting  with  a difficulty,  they  fly  from 
it  discouraged ; but  they  have  capacities,  if  they 
would  employ  them.”  Shall  we  then  judge  a coun- 
try by  the  majority,  or  by  the  minority?  By  the 
minority,  surely.  ?Tis  pedantry  to  estimate  na- 
tions by  the  census,  or  by  square  miles  of  land,  or 
other  than  by  their  importance  to  the  mind  of  the 
time. 


CONSIDERATIONS  BY  THE  WAY.  237 


Leave  this  hypocritical  prating  about  the  masses. 
Masses  are  rude,  lame,  unmade,  pernicious  in  their 
demands  and  influence,  and  need  not  to  be  flattered 
but  to  be  schooled.  I wish  not  to  concede  any- 
thing to  them,  but  to  tame,  drill,  divide  and  break 
them  up,  and  draw  individuals  out  of  them.  The 
worst  of  charity  is  that  the  lives  you  are  asked  to 
preserve  are  not  worth  preserving.  Masses ! the 
calamity  is  the  masses.  I do  not  wish  any  mass 
at  all,  but  honest  men  only,  lovely,  sweet,  accom- 
plished women  only,  and  no  shovel-handed,  narrow- 
brained, gin-drinking  million  stockingers  or  lazza- 
roni  at  all.  If  government  knew  how,  I should 
like  to  see  it  check,  not  multiply  the  population. 
\\F  lien  it  reaches  its  true  law  of  action,  every  man 
that  is  born  will  be  hailed  as  essential.  Away  with 
this  hurrah  of  masses,  and  let  us  have  the  consid- 
erate vote  of  single  men  spoken  on  their  honor  and 
their  conscience.  In  old  Egypt  it  was  established 
law  that  the  vote  of  a prophet  be  reckoned  equal  to 
a hundred  hands.  I think  it  was  much  under-esti- 
mated. “ Clay  and  clay  differ  in  dignity,”  as  we 
discover  by  our  preferences  every  day.  What  a 
vicious  practice  is  this  of  our  politicians  at  Wash- 
ington pairing  off  ! as  if  one  man  who  votes  wrong 
going  away,  could  excuse  you,  who  mean  to  vote 
right,  for  going  away ; or  as  if  your  presence  did 
not  tell  in  more  ways  than  in  your  vote.  Suppose 


238 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


the  three  hundred  heroes  at  Thermopylae  had  paired 
off  with  three  hundred  Persians  ; would  it  have 
been  all  the  same  to  Greece,  and  to  history  ? Na- 
poleon was  called  by  his  men  Cent  Mille.  Add 
honesty  to  him,  and  they  might  have  called  him 
Hundred  Million. 

Nature  makes  fifty  poor  melons  for  one  that 
is  good,  and  shakes  down  a tree  full  of  gnarled, 
wormy,  unripe  crabs,  before  you  can  find  a dozen 
dessert  apples  ; and  she  scatters  nations  of  naked 
Indians  and  nations  of  clothed  Christians,  with  two 
or  three  good  heads  among  them.  Nature  works 
very  hard,  and  only  hits  the  white  once  in  a million 
throws.  In  mankind  she  is  contented  if  she  yields 
one  master  in  a century.  The  more  difficulty  there 
is  in  creating  good  men,  the  more  they  are  used 
when  they  come.  I once  counted  in  a little  neigh- 
borhood and  found  that  every  able-bodied  man  had 
say  from  twelve  to  fifteen  persons  dependent  on 
him  for  material  aid,  — to  whom  he  is  to  be  for 
spoon  and  jug,  for  backer  and  sponsor,  for  nursery 
and  hospital  and  many  functions  beside  : nor  does 
it  seem  to  make  much  difference  whether  he  is 
bachelor  or  patriarch ; if  he  do  not  violently  de- 
cline the  duties  that  fall  to  him,  this  amount  of 
helpfulness  will  in  one  way  or  another  be  brought 
home  to  him.  This  is  the  tax  which  his  abilities 
pay.  The  good  men  are  employed  for  private  cem 


CONSIDERATIONS  BY  THE  WAY.  239 


tres  of  use,  and  for  larger  influence.  All  reve- 
lations, whether  of  mechanical  or  intellectual  or 
-moral  science,  are  made,  not  to  communities  but  to 
single  persons.  All  the  marked  events  of  our  day, 
alb  the  cities,  all  the  colonizations,  may  be  traced 
back  to  their  origin  in  a private  brain.  All  the 
feats  which  make  our  civility  were  the  thoughts  of 
a few  good  heads. 

Meantime  this  spawning  productivity  is  not  nox- 
ious or  needless.  You  would  say  this  rabble  of 
nations  might  be  spared.  But  no,  they  are  all 
counted  and  depended  on.  Fate  keeps  everything 
alive  so  long  as  the  smallest  thread  of  public  neces- 
sity holds  it  on  to  the  tree.  The  coxcomb  and 
bully  and  thief  class  are  allowed  as  proletaries, 
every  one  of  their  vices  being  the  excess  or  acridity 
of  a virtue.  The  mass  are  animal,  in  pupilage,  and 
near  chimpanzee.  But  the  units  whereof  this  mass 
is  composed,  are  neuters,  every  one  of  which  may 
be  grown  to  a queen-bee.  The  rule  is,  we  are  used 
as  brute  atoms  until  we  think : then  we  use  all  the 
rest.  Nature  turns  all  malfeasance  to  good.  Na- 
ture provided  for  real  needs.  No  sane  man  at  last 
distrusts  himself.  His  existence  is  a perfect  an- 
swer to  all  sentimental  cavils.  If  he  is,  he  is 
wanted,  and  has  the  precise  properties  that  are 
required.  That  we  are  here,  is  proof  we  ought 
to  be  here.  We  have  as  good  right,  and  the  same 


240 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


sort  of  right  to  be  here,  as  Cape  Cod  or  Sandy 
Hook  have  to  be  there. 

To  say  then,  the  majority  are  wicked,  means  no 
malice,  no  bad  heart  in  the  observer,  but  simply 
that  the  majority  are  unripe,  and  have  not  yet 
come  to  themselves,  do  not  yet  know  their  opinion. 
That , if  they  knew  it,  is  an  oracle  for  them  and  for 
all.  But  in  the  passing  moment  the  quadruped  in- 
terest is  very  prone  to  prevail ; and  this  beast-force, 
whilst  it  makes  the  discipline  of  the  world,  the 
school  of  heroes,  the  glory  of  martyrs,  has  provoked 
in  every  age  the  satire  of  wits  and  the  tears  of 
good  men.  They  find  the  journals,  the  clubs,  the 
governments,  the  churches,  to  be  in  the  interest  and 
the  pay  of  the  devil.  And  wise  men  have  met  this 
obstruction  in  their  times,  like  Socrates,  with  his 
famous  irony ; like  Bacon,  with  life-long  dissimula- 
tion ; like  Erasmus,  with  his  book  “ The  Praise  of 
Folly ; ” like  Rabelais,  with  his  satire  rending  the 
nations.  “ They  were  the  fools  who  cried  against 
me,  you  will  say,”  wrote  the  Chevalier  de  Boufflers 
to  Grimm  ; “ aye,  but  the  fools  have  the  advantage 
of  numbers,  and ’t  is  that  which  decides.  It  is  of 
no  use  for  us  to  make  war  with  them ; we  shall  not 
weaken  them  ; they  will  always  be  the  masters. 
There  will  not  be  a practice  or  an  usage  introduced, 
of  which  they  are  not  the  authors.” 

In  front  of  these  sinister  facts,  the  first  .lesson  of 


CONSIDERATIONS  BY  THE  WAY.  241 


history  is  the  good  of  evil.  Good  is  a good  doctor 
but  Bad  is  sometimes  a better.  The  oppressions 
of  William  the  Norman,  savage  forest -laws  and 
crushing  despotism  made  possible  the  inspirations 
of  Magna  Charta  under  J olm.  Edward  I.  wanted 
money,  armies,  castles,  and  as  much  as  he  could 
get.  It  was  necessary  to  call  the  people  together 
by  shorter,  swifter  ways,  — and  the  House  of  Com- 
mons arose.  To  obtain  subsidies,  he  paid  in  privi- 
leges. In  the  twenty-fourth  year  of  his  reign  he 
decreed  “ that  no  tax  should  be  levied  without  con- 
sent of  Lords  and  Commons;” — which  is  the 
basis  of  the  English  Constitution.  Plutarch  af- 
firms that  the  cruel  wars  which  followed  the  march 
of  Alexander  introduced  the  civility,  language,  and 
arts  of  Greece  into  the  savage  East ; introduced 
marriage ; built  seventy  cities,  and  united  hostile  na- 
tions under  one  government.  The  barbarians  who 
broke  up  the  Roman  empire  did  not  arrive  a day 
too  soon.  Schiller  says  the  Thirty  Years’  War 
made  Germany  a nation.  Rough,  selfish  despots 
serve  men  immensely,  as  Henry  VIII.  in  the  con- 
test with  the  Pope ; as  the  infatuations  no  less  than 
the  wisdom  of  Cromwell ; as  the  ferocity  of  the 
Russian  czars ; as  the  fanaticism  of  the  French  reg- 
icides of  1789.  The  frost  which  kills  the  harvest 
of  a year,  saves  the  harvests  of  a century,  by  de- 
stroying the  weevil  or  the  locust.  Wars,  fires, 
16 


VOL.  VT 


242 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


plagues,  break  up  immovable  routine,  clear  the 
ground  of  rotten  races  and  dens  of  distemper,  and 
open  a fair  field  to  new  men.  There  is  a tendency- 
in  things  to  right  themselves,  and  the  war  or  revo- 
lution or  bankruptcy  that  shatters  a rotten  system, 
allows  things  to  take  a new  and  natural  order.  The 
sharpest  evils  are  bent  into  that  periodicity  which 
makes  the  errors  of  planets  and  the  fevers  and  dis- 
tempers of  men,  self-limiting.  Nature  is  upheld  by 
antagonism.  Passions,  resistance,  danger,  are  edu- 
cators. We  acquire  the  strength  we  have  overcome. 
Without  war,  no  soldiers ; without  enemies,  no  hero. 
The  sun  were  insipid,  if  the  universe  were  not 
opaque.  And  the  glory  of  character  is  in  affront- 
ing the  horrors  of  depravity  to  draw  thence  new 
nobilities  of  power ; as  Art  lives  and  thrills  in  new 
use  and  combining  of  contrasts,  and  mining  into 
the  dark  evermore  for  blacker  pits  of  night.  What 
would  painter  do,  or  what  would  poet  or  saint,  but 
for  crucifixions  and  hells?  And  evermore  in  the 
world  is  this  marvellous  balance  of  beauty  and  dis- 
gust, magnificence  and  rats.  Not  Antoninus,  but  a 
poor  washer- woman  said,  “ The  more  trouble,  the 
more  lion  ; that  ?s  my  principle.” 

I do  not  think  very  respectfully  of  the  designs  or 
the  doings  of  the  people  who  went  to  California  in 
1849.  It  was  a rush  and  a scramble  of  needy  ad- 
venturers, and,  in  the  western  country,  a general 


CONSIDERATIONS  BY  THE  WAY.  243 


jail-delivery  of  all  the  rowdies  of  the  rivers.  Some 
of  them  went  with  honest  purposes,  some  with  very 
bad  ones,  and  all  of  them  with  the  very  common- 
place wish  to  find  a short  way  to  wealth.  But 
Nature  watches  over  all,  and  turns  this  malfeasance 
to  good.  California  gets  peopled  and  subdued, 
civilized  in  this  immoral  way,  and  on  this  fiction 
a real  prosperity  is  rooted  and  grown.  ’T  is  a de- 
coy-duck ; ’t  is  tubs  thrown  to  amuse  the  whale  ; 
but  real  ducks,  and  whales  that  yield  oil,  are  caught. 
And  out  of  Sabine  rapes,  and  out  of  robbers’  forays, 
real  Romes  and  their  heroisms  come  in  fulness  of 
time. 

In  America  the  geography  is  sublime  but  the 
men  are  not : the  inventions  are  excellent  but  the 
inventors  one  is  sometimes  ashamed  of.  The  agen- 
cies by  which  events  so  grand  as  the  opening  of 
California,  of  Texas,  of  Oregon,  and  the  junction 
of  the  two  oceans,  are  effected,  are  paltry,  — coarse 
selfishness,  fraud  and  conspiracy ; and  most  of  the 
great  results  of  history  are  brought  about  by  dis- 
creditable means. 

The  "benefaction  derived  in  Illinois  and  the  great 
West  from  railroads  is  inestimable,  and  vastly  ex- 
ceeding any  intentional  philanthropy  on  record. 
What  is  the  benefit  done  by  a good  King  Alfred, 
or  by  a Howard,  or  Pestalozzi,  or  Elizabeth  Fry, 
or  Florence  Nightingale,  or  any  lover,  less  or 


244 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


larger,  compared  with  the  involuntary  blessing 
wrought  on  nations  by  the  selfish  capitalists  who 
built  the  Illinois,  Michigan,  and  the  network  of  the 
Mississippi-valley  roads  ; which  have  evoked  not 
only  all  the  wealth  of  the  soil,  but  the  energy  of 
millions  of  men.  It  is  a sentence  of  ancient  wis- 
dom that  “ God  hangs  the  greatest  weights  on  the 
smallest  wires.” 

What  happens  thus  to  nations,  befalls  every  day 
in  private  houses.  When  the  friends  of  a gentle- 
man brought  to  his  notice  the  follies  of  his  sons, 
with  many  hints  of  their  danger,  he  replied  that  he 
knew  so  much  mischief  when  he  was  a boy,  and 
had  turned  out  on  the  whole  so  successfully,  that 
he  was  not  alarmed  by  the  dissipation  of  boys  ; 
’t  was  dangerous  water,  but  he  thought  they  would 
soon  touch  bottom,  and  then  swim  to  the  top.  This 
is  bold  practice,  and  there  are  many  failures  to  a 
good  escape.  Yet  one  would  say  that  a good  un- 
derstanding would  suffice  as  well  as  moral  sensibil- 
ity to  keep  one  erect ; the  gratifications  of  the  pas- 
sions are  so  quickly  seen  to  be  damaging,  and  — 
what  men  like  least  — seriously  lowering  them  in 
social  rank.  Then  all  talent  sinks  with  character. 

“ Croyez  moi , Verreur  aussi  a son  merited  said 
Voltaire.  We  see  those  who  surmount,  by  dint  of 
some  egotism  or  infatuation,  obstacles  from  which 
the  prudent  recoil.  The  right  partisan  is  a heady 


CONSIDER  A TIONS  BY  THE  WAY.  245 


narrow  man,  who,  because  he  does  not  see  many 
things,  sees  some  one  thing  with  heat  and  exaggera- 
tion, and  if  he  falls  among  other  narrow  men,  or 
on  objects  which  have  a brief  importance,  as  some 
trade  or  politics  of  the  hour,  he  prefers  it  to  the 
universe,  and  seems  inspired  and  a godsend  to 
those  who  wish  to  magnify  the  matter  and  carry 
a point.  Better,  certainly,  if  we  could  secure  the 
strength  and  fire  which  rude,  passionate  men  bring 
into  society,  quite  clear  of  their  vices.  But  who 
dares  draw  out  the  linchpin  from  the  wagon-wheel? 
’T  is  so  manifest  that  there  is  no  moral  deformity 
but  is  a good  passion  out  of  place  ; that  there  is  no 
man  who  is  not  indebted  to  his  foibles  ; that,  ac- 
cording to  the  old  oracle,  “the  Furies  are  the  bonds 
of  men ; ” that  the  poisons  are  our  principal  med- 
icines, which  kill  the  disease  and  save  the  life.  In 
the  high  prophetic  phrase,  lie  causes  the  wrath  of 
man  to  praise  him , and  twists  and  wrenches  our 
evil  to  our  good.  Shakspeare  wrote,  — 

“ ’T  is  said,  best  men  are  moulded  of  their  faults  ; ” 

and  great  educators  and  lawgivers,  and  especially 
generals  and  leaders  of  colonies,  mainly  rely  on  this 
stuff,  and  esteem  men  of  irregular  and  passional 
force  the  best  timber.  A man  of  sense  and  energy, 
the  late  head  of  the  Farm  School  in  Boston  Har- 
bor, said  to  me,  “ I want  none  of  your  good  boys,  — 


246 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


give  me  the  bad  ones.”  And  this  is  the  reason,  1 
suppose,  why,  as  soon  as  the  children  are  good,  the 
mothers  are  scared,  and  think  they  are  going  to 
die.  Mirabeau  said,  “ There  are  none  but  men  of 
strong  passions  capable  of  going  to  greatness ; none 
but  such  capable  of  meriting  the  public  gratitude.” 
Passion,  though  a bad  regulator,  is  a powerful 
spring.  Any  absorbing  passion  has  the  effect  to 
deliver  from  the  little  coils  and  cares  of  every  day : 
’t  is  the  heat  which  sets  our  human  atoms  spinning, 
overcomes  the  friction  of  crossing  thresholds  and 
first  addresses  in  society,  and  gives  us  a good  start 
and  speed,  easy  to  continue  when  once  it  is  begun. 
In  short  there  is  no  man  who  is  not  at  some  time 
indebted  to  his  vices,  as  no  plant  that  is  not  fed 
from  manures.  We  only  insist  that  the  man  melio- 
rate, and  that  the  plant  grow  upward  and  convert 
the  base  into  the  better  nature. 

The  wise  workman  will  not  regret  the  poverty  or 
the  solitude  which  brought  out  his  working  talents. 
The  youth  is  charmed  with  the  fine  air  and  accom- 
plishments of  the  children  of  fortune.  But  all 
great  men  come  out  of  the  middle  classes.  ’T  is 
better  for  the  head ; ’t  is  better  for  the  heart. 
Marcus  Antoninus  says  that  Fronto  told  him  that 
“ the  so-called  high-born  are  for  the  most  part 
heartless  ; ” whilst  nothing  is  so  indicative  of  deep- 
est culture  as  a tender  consideration  of  the  igno- 


CONSIDERATIONS  BY  THE  WAY.  247 


rant.  Charles  James  Fox  said  of  England,  “ The 
history  of  this  country  proves  that  we  are  not  to 
expect  from  men  in  affluent  circumstances  the  vig- 
ilance, energy,  and  exertion  without  which  the 
House  of  Commons  would  lose  its  greatest  force 
and  weight.  Human  nature  is  prone  to  indul- 
gence, and  the  most  meritorious  public  services 
have  always  been  performed  by  persons  in  a con- 
dition of  life  removed  from  opulence.”  And  yet 
what  we  ask  daily,  is  to  be  conventional.  Supply, 
most  kind  gods ! this  defect  in  my  address,  in  my 
form,  in  my  fortunes,  which  puts  me  a little  out 
of  the  ring : supply  it,  and  let  me  be  like  the  rest 
whom  I admire,  and  on  good  terms  with  them. 
But  the  wise  gods  say,  No,  we  have  better  things 
for  thee.  By  humiliations,  by  defeats,  by  loss  of 
sympathy,  by  gulfs  of  disparity,  learn  a wider 
truth  and  humanity  than  that  of  a fine  gentleman. 
A Fifth-Avenue  landlord,  a W est-End  householder, 
is  not  the  highest  style  of  man  ; and  though  good 
hearts  and  sound  minds  are  of  no  condition,  yet  he 
who  is  to  be  wise  for  many  must  not  be  protected. 
He  must  know  the  huts  where  poor  men  lie,  and 
the  chores  which  poor  men  do.  The  first-class 
minds,  iEsop,  Socrates,  Cervantes,  Shakspeare, 
Franklin,  had  the  poor  man’s  feeling  and  mortifi- 
cation. A rich  man  was  never  insulted  in  his  life ; 
but  this  man  must  be  stung.  A rich  man  was 


248 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


never  in  danger  from  cold,  or  hunger,  or  war,  or 
ruffians,  — and  you  can  see  he  was  not,  from  the 
moderation  of  his  ideas.  ’T  is  a fatal  disadvantage 
to  be  cockered  and  to  eat  too  much  cake.  What 
tests  of  manhood  could  he  stand  ? Take  him  out 
of  his  protections.  He  is  a good  book-keeper ; or 
he  is  a shrewd  adviser  in  the  insurance  office ; per- 
haps he  could  pass  a college  examination,  and  take 
his  degrees ; perhaps  he  can  give  wise  counsel  in 
a court  of  law.  Now  plant  him  down  among  far- 
mers, firemen,  Indians,  and  emigrants.  Set  a dog 
on  him ; set  a highwayman  on  him ; try  him  with 
a course  of  mobs ; send  him  to  Kansas,  to  Pike’s 
Peak,  to  Oregon  ; and,  if  he  have  true  faculty,  this 
may  be  the  element  he  wants,  and  he  will  come 
out  of  it  with  broader  wisdom  and  manly  power. 
iEsop,  Saadi,  Cervantes,  Regnard,  have  been  taken 
by  corsairs,  left  for  dead,  sold  for  slaves,  and  know 
the  realities  of  human  life. 

Bad  times  have  a scientific  value.  These  are 
occasions  a good  learner  would  not  miss.  As  we 
go  gladly  to  Faneuil  Hall  to  be  played  upon  by 
the  stormy  winds  and  strong  fingers  of  enraged  pa- 
triotism, so  is  a fanatical  persecution,  civil  war, 
national  bankruptcy  or  revolution  more  rich  in  the 
central  tones  than  languid  years  of  prosperity. 
What  had  been,  ever  since  our  memory,  solid  con- 
tinent, yawns  apart  and  discloses  its  composition 


CONSIDER  A TIONS  BY  THE  WAY.  249 


and  genesis.  We  learn  geology  the  morning  aftei 
the  earthquake,  on  ghastly  diagrams  of  cloven  moun- 
tains, uplieaved  plains,  and  the  dry  bed  of  the  sea. 

In  our  life  and  culture  everything  is  worked 
up  and  comes  in  use,  — passion,  war,  revolt,  bank- 
ruptcy, and  not  less,  folly  and  blunders,  insult,  em 
nui  and  bad  company.  Nature  is  a rag-merchant, 
who  works  up  every  shred  and  ort  and  end  into 
new  creations ; like  a good  chemist  whom  I found 
the  other  day  in  his  laboratory,  converting  his  old 
shirts  into  pure  white  sugar.  Life  is  a boundless 
privilege,  and  when  you  pay  for  your  ticket  and 
get  into  the  car,  you  have  no  guess  what  good  com- 
pany you  shall  find  there.  You  buy  much  that  is 
not  rendered  in  the  bill.  Men  achieve  a certain 
greatness  unawares,  when  working  to  another  aim. 

If  now  in  this  connection  of  discourse  we  should 
venture  on  laying  down  the  first  obvious  rules  of 
life,  I will  not  here  repeat  the  first  rule  of  economy, 
already  propounded  once  and  again,  that  every 
man  shall  maintain  himself,  — but  I will  say,  get 
health.  No  labor,  pains,  temperance,  poverty,  nor 
exercise,  that  can  gain  it,  must  be  grudged.  For 
sickness  is  a cannibal  which  eats  up  all  the  life 
and  youth  it  can  lay  hold  of,  and  absorbs  its  own 
sons  and  daughters.  I figure  it  as  a pale,  wailing, 
distracted  phantom,  absolutely  selfish,  heedless  of 
what  is  good  and  great,  attentive  to  its  sensations, 


250 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


losing  its  soul,  and  afflicting  other  souls  with  mean- 
ness and  mopings  and  with  ministration  to  its  vorac- 
ity of  trifles.  Dr.  Johnson  said  severely,  “ Every 
man  is  a rascal  as  soon  as  he  is  sick.”  Drop  the 
cant,  and  treat  it  sanely.  In  dealing  with  the 
drunken,  we  do  not  affect  to  be  drunk.  We  must 
treat  the  sick  with  the  same  firmness,  giving  them 
of  course  every  aid,  — but  withholding  ourselves. 
I once  asked  a clergyman  in  a retired  town,  who 
were  his  companions  ? what  men  of  ability  he  saw  ? 
He  replied  that  he  spent  his  time  with  the  sick  and 
the  dying.  I said  he  seemed  to  me  to  need  quite 
other  company,  and  all  the  more  that  he  had  this  ; 
for  if  people  were  sick  and  dying  to  any  purpose, 
we  would  leave  all  and  go  to  them,  but  as  far  as  I 
had  observed  they  were  as  frivolous  as  the  rest,  and 
sometimes  much  more  frivolous.  Let  us  engage 
our  companions  not  to  spare  us.  I knew  a wise 
woman  who  said  to  her  friends,  “ When  I am  old, 
rule  me.”  And  the  best  part  of  health  is  fine  dis- 
position. It  is  more  essential  than  talent,  even  in 
the  works  of  talent.  Nothing  will  supply  the  want 
of  sunshine  to  peaches,  and  to  make  knowledge  val- 
uable, you  must  have  the  cheerfulness  of  wisdom. 
Whenever  you  are  sincerely  pleased,  you  are  nour- 
ished. The  joy  of  the  spirit  indicates  its  strength. 
All  healthy  things  are  sweet-tempered.  Genius 
works  in  sport,  and  goodness  smiles  to  the  last; 


CONSIDERATIONS  BY  THE  WAY.  251 

and  for  tlie  reason  that  whoever  sees  the  law  which 
distributes  things,  does  not  despond,  bat  is  ani- 
mated to  great  desires  and  endeavors.  He  who  de- 
sponds betrays  that  he  has  not  seen  it. 

’T  is  a Dutch  proverb  that  “ paint  costs  noth- 
ing,” such  are  its  preserving  qualities  in  damp  cli- 
mates. Well,  sunshine  costs  less,  yet  is  finer  pig- 
ment. And  so  of  cheerfulness,  or  a good  temper, 
the  more  it  is  spent,  the  more  of  it  remains.  The 
latent  heat  of  an  ounce  of  wood  or  stone  is  inex- 
haustible. You  may  rub  the  same  chip  of  pine  to 
the  point  of  kindling  a hundred  times  ; and  the 
power  of  happiness  of  any  soul  is  not  to  be  com- 
puted or  drained.  It  is  observed  that  a depression 
of  spirits  develops  the  germs  of  a plague  in  individ- 
uals and  nations. 

It  is  an  old  commendation  of  right  behavior, 
“ Aliis  Icetus,  sapiens  sibi”  which  our  English 
proverb  translates,  “ Be  merry  and  wise.”  I know 
how  easy  it  is  to  men  of  the  world  to  look  grave 
and  sneer  at  your  sanguine  youth  and  its  glittering 
dreams/  But  I find  the  gayest  castles  in  the  air 
that  were  ever  piled,  far  better  for  comfort  and  for 
use  than  the  dungeons  in  the  air  that  are  daily  dug 
and  caverned  out  by  grumbling,  discontented  peo- 
ple. I know  those  miserable  fellows,  and  I hate 
them,  who  see  a black  star  always  riding  through 
the  light  and  colored  clouds  in  the  sky  overhead : 


252 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


waves  of  light  pass  over  and  hide  it  for  a moment, 
but  the  black  star  keeps  fast  in  the  zenith.  But 
power  dwells  with  cheerfulness ; hope  puts  us  in  a 
working  mood,  whilst  despair  is  no  muse,  and  un- 
tunes the  active  powers.  A man  should  make  life 
and  Nature  happier  to  us,  or  he  had  better  never 
been  born.  When  the  political  economist  reckons 
up  the  unproductive  classes,  he  should  put  at  the 
head  this  class  of  pitiers  of  themselves,  cravers  of 
sympathy,  bewailing  imaginary  disasters.  An  old 
French  verse  runs,  in  my  translation  : — 

“ Some  of  your  griefs  you  have  cured, 

And  the  sharpest  you  still  have  survived; 

But  what  torments  of  pain  you  endured 
From  evils  that  never  arrived  ! ” 

There  are  three  wants  which  never  can  be  satis- 
fied : that  of  the  rich,  who  wants  something  more ; 
that  of  the  sick,  who  wants  something  different; 
and  that  of  the  traveller,  who  says,  4 Anywhere  but 
here.’  The  Turkish  cadi  said  to  Layard,  44  After 
the  fashion  of  thy  people,  thou  hast  wandered  from 
one  place  to  another,  until  thou  art  happy  and  con- 
tent in  none.”  My  countrymen  are  not  less  infat- 
uated with  the  rococo  toy  of  Italy.  All  America 
seems  on  the  point  of  embarking  for  Europe.  But 
we  shall  not  always  traverse  seas  and  lands  with 
light  purposes,  and  for  pleasure,  as  we  say.  One 
day  we  shall  cast  out  the  passion  for  Europe  by  the 


CONSIDER  A TIONS  BY  THE  WAY.  253 


passion  for  America.  Culture  will  give  gravity 
and  domestic  rest  to  those  who  now  travel  only  as 
not  knowing  how  else  to  spend  money.  Already, 
who  provoke  pity  like  that  excellent  family  party 
just  arriving  in  their  well-appointed  carriage,  as 
far  from  home  and  any  honest  end  as  ever  ? Each 
nation  has  asked  successively,  4 What  are  they  here 
for  ? ’ until  at  last  the  party  are  shamefaced,  and 
anticipate  the  question  at  the  gates  of  each  town. 

Genial  manners  are  good,  and  power  of  accom- 
modation to  any  circumstance  ; but  the  high  prize 
of  life,  the  crowning  fortune  of  a man,  is  to  be  born 
with  a bias  to  some  pursuit  which  finds  him  in  em- 
ployment and  happiness,  — whether  it  be  to  make 
baskets,  or  broadswords,  or  canals,  or  statutes,  or 
songs.  I doubt  not  this  was  the  meaning  of  Soc- 
rates, when  he  pronounced  artists  the  only  truly 
wise,  as  being  actually,  not  apparently  so. 

In  childhood  we  fancied  ourselves  walled  in  by 
the  horizon,  as  by  a glass  bell,  and  doubted  not 
by  distant  travel  we  should  reach  the  baths  of  the 
descending  sun  and  stars.  On  experiment  the  ho- 
rizon flies  before  us  and  leaves  us  on  an  endless 
common,  sheltered  by  no  glass  bell.  Yet  ’t  is 
strange  how  tenaciously  we  cling  to  that  bell-as- 
tronomy of  a protecting  domestic  horizon.  I find 
the  same  illusion  in  the  search  after  happiness 
which  I observe  every  summer  recommenced  in  this 


254 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


neighborhood,  soon  after  the  pairing  of  the  birds. 
The  young  people  do  not  like  the  town,  do  not  like 
the  sea-shore,  they  will  go  inland ; find  a dear  cot- 
tage deep  in  the  mountains,  secret  as  their  hearts. 
They  set  forth  on  their  travels  in  search  of  a home : 
they  reach  Berkshire  ; they  reach  Vermont ; they 
look  at  the  farms  ; — good  farms,  high  mountain- 
sides; but  where  is  the  seclusion?  The  farm  is 
near  this,  ’t  is  near  that ; they  have  got  far  from 
Boston,  but ’t  is  near  Albany,  or  near  Burlington, 
or  near  Montreal.  They  explore  a farm,  but  the 
house  is  small,  old,  thin  ; discontented  people  lived 
there  and  are  gone  ; — - there ’s  too  much  sky,  too 
much  out-doors  ; too  public.  The  youth  aches  for 
solitude.  When  he  comes  to  the  house  he  passes 
through  the  house.  That  does  not  make  the  deep 
recess  he  sought.  6 Ah  ! now  I perceive,’  he  says, 

6 it  must  be  deep  with  persons;  friends  only  can 
give  depth.’  Yes,  but  there  is  a great  dearth,  this 
year,  of  friends ; hard  to  find,  and  hard  to  have 
when  found : they  are  just  going  away ; they  too 
are  in  the  whirl  of  the  flitting  world,  and  have  en- 
gagements and  necessities.  They  are  just  starting 
for  Wisconsin  ; have  letters  from  Bremen  ; — see 
you  again,  soon.  Slow,  slow  to  learn  the  lesson 
that  there  is  but  one  depth,  but  one  interior,  and 
that  is  — his  purpose.  When  joy  or  calamity  or 
genius  shall  show  him  it,  then  woods,  then  farms, 


CONSIDERATIONS  BY  THE  WAY.  255 


then  city  shopmen  and  cabdrivers,  indifferently  with 
prophet  or  friend,  will  mirror  back  to  him  its  un- 
fathomable heaven,  its  populous  solitude. 

The  uses  of  travel  are  occasional,  and  short ; but 
the  best  fruit  it  finds,  when  it  finds  it,  is  conversa- 
tion ; and  this  is  a main  function  of  life.  What  a 
difference  in  the  hospitality  of  minds ! Inestimable 
is  he  to  whom  we  can  say  what  we  cannot  say  to 
ourselves.  Others  are  involuntarily  hurtful  to  us 
and  bereave  us  of  the  power  of  thought,  impound 
and  imprison  us.  As,  when  there  is  sympathy, 
there  needs  but  one  wise  man  in  a company  and 
all  are  wise,  so  a blockhead  makes  a blockhead  of 
his  companion.  Wonderful  power  to  benumb  pos- 
sesses this  brother.  When  he  comes  into  the  office 
or  public  room,  the  society  dissolves ; one  after  an- 
other slips  out,  and  the  apartment  is  at  his  disposal. 
What  is  incurable  but  a frivolous  habit?  A fly  is 
as  untamable  as  a hyena.  Yet  folly  in  the  sense 
of  fun,  fooling  or  dawdling  can  easily  be  borne  ; 
as  Talleyrand  said,  “ I find  nonsense  singularly  re- 
freshing ; ” but  a virulent,  aggressive  fool  taints 
the  reason  of  a household.  I have  seen  a whole 
family  of  quiet,  sensible  people  unhinged  and  be- 
side themselves,  victims  of  such  a rogue.  For  the 
steady  wrongheadedness  of  one  perverse  person  ir- 
ritates the  best ; since  we  must  withstand  absurdity. 
But  resistance  only  exasperates  the  acrid  fool,  who 


256 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


believes  that  Nature  and  gravitation  are  quite 
wrong,  and  he  only  is  right.  Hence  all  the  dozen 
inmates  are  soon  perverted,  with  whatever  virtues 
and  industries  they  have,  into  contradictors,  accus- 
ers, explainers  and  repairers  of  this  one  malefactor ; 
like  a boat  about  to  be  overset,  or  a carriage  run 
away  with,  — not  only  the  foolish  pilot  or  driver, 
but  everybody  on  board  is  forced  to  assume  strange 
and  ridiculous  attitudes,  to  balance  the  vehicle  and 
prevent  the  upsetting.  For  remedy,  whilst  the 
case  is  yet  mild,  I recommend  phlegm  and  truth : 
let  all  the  truth  that  is  spoken  or  done  be  at  the 
zero  of  indifferency,  or  truth  itself  will  be  folly. 
But  when  the  case  is  seated  and  malignant,  the 
only  safety  is  in  amputation  ; as  seamen  say,  you 
shall  cut  and  run.  How  to  live  with  unfit  compan- 
ions?— for  with  such,  life  is  for  the  most  part 
spent ; and  experience  teaches  little  better  than 
our  earliest  instinct  of  self-defence,  namely  not  to 
engage,  not  to  mix  yourself  in  any  manner  with 
them,  but  let  their  madness  spend  itself  unopposed. 

Conversation  is  an  art  in  which  a man  has  all 
mankind  for  his  competitors,  for  it  is  that  which 
all  are  practising  every  day  while  they  live.  Our 
habit  of  thought  — take  men  as  they  rise,  — is  not 
satisfying ; in  the  common  experience  I fear  it  is 
poor  and  squalid.  The  success  which  will  content 
them  is  a bargain,  a lucrative  employment,  an  ad- 


CONSIDERATIONS  BY  TIIE  WAY.  257 

vantage  gained  over  a competitor,  a marriage,  a 
patrimony,  a legacy,  and  the  like.  With  these  ob- 
jects, their  conversation  deals  with  surfaces : poli- 
tics, trade,  personal  defects,  exaggerated  bad  news, 
and  the  rain.  This  is  forlorn,  and  they  feel  sore 
and  sensitive.  Now  if  one  comes  who  can  illumi- 
nate this  dark  house  with  thoughts,  show  them 
their  native  riches,  what  gifts  they  have,  how  indis- 
pensable each  is,  what  magical  powers  over  nature 
and  men ; what  access  to  poetry,  religion,  and  the 
powers  which  constitute  character,  — he  wakes  in 
them  the  feeling  of  worth,  his  suggestions  require 
new  ways  of  living,  new  books,  new  men,  new  arts 
and  sciences  ; — then  we  come  out  of  our  egg-shell 
existence  into  the  great  dome,  and  see  the  zenith 
over  and  the  nadir  under  us.  Instead  of  the 
tanks  and  buckets  of  knowledge  to  which  we  are 
daily  confined,  we  come  down  to  the  shore  of  the 
sea,  and  dip  our  hands  in  its  miraculous  waves. 
’T  is  wonderful  the  effect  on  the  company.  They 
are  not  the  men  they  were.  They  have  all  been  to 
California  and  all  have  come  back  millionaires. 
There  is  no  book  and  no  pleasure  in  life  comparable 
to  it.  Ask  what  is  best  in  our  experience,  and  we 
shall  say,  a few  pieces  of  plain-dealing  with  wise 
people.  Our  conversation  once  and  again  has  ap- 
prised us  that  we  belong  to  better  circles  than  we 
have  yet  beheld ; that  a mental  power  invites  us 
17 


VOL.  VI. 


258 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


whose  generalizations  are  more  worth  for  joy  and 
for  effect  than  anything  that  is  now  called  philoso- 
phy or  literature.  In  excited  conversation  we  have 
glimpses  of  the  Universe,  hints  of  power  native  to 
the  soul,  far-darting  lights  and  shadows  of  an  Andes 
landscape,  such  as  we  can  hardly  attain  in  lone  med- 
itation. Here  are  oracles  sometimes  profusely  given, 
to  which  the  memory  goes  back  in  barren  hours. 

Add  the  consent  of  will  and  temperament,  and 
there  exists  the  covenant  of  friendship.  Our  chief 
want  in  life  is  somebody  who  shall  make  us  do 
what  we  can.  This  is  the  service  of  a friend. 
With  him  we  are  easily  great.  There  is  a sublime 
attraction  in  him  to  whatever  virtue  is  in  us.  How 
he  flings  wide  the  doors  of  existence ! What  ques- 
tions we  ask  of  him ! what  an  understanding  we 
have ! how  few  words  are  needed ! It  is  the  only 
real  society.  An  Eastern  poet,  Ali  Ben  Abu  Ta- 
leb,  writes  with  sad  truth  : — 

“ He  who  has  a thousand  friends  has  not  a friend  to  spare, 

And  he  who  has  one  enemy  shall  meet  him  everywhere.” 

But  few  writers  have  said  anything  better  to  this 
point  than  Hafiz,  who  indicates  this  relation  as  the 
test  of  mental  health : “ Thou  learnest  no  secret 
until  thou  knowest  friendship,  since  to  the  unsound 
no  heavenly  knowledge  enters.”  Neither  is  life 
long  enough  for  friendship.  That  is  a serious  and 


CONSIDERATIONS  BY  THE  WAY.  259 


majestic  affair,  like  a royal  presence,  or  a religion, 
and  not  a postilion’s  dinner  to  be  eaten  on  the  run. 
There  is  a pudency  about  friendship  as  about  love, 
and  though  fine  souls  never  lose  sight  of  it,  yet 
they  do  not  name  it.  With  the  first  class  of  men 
our  friendship  or  good  understanding  goes  quite 
behind  all  accidents  of  estrangement,  of  condition, 
of  reputation.  And  yet  we  do  not  provide  for  the 
greatest  good  of  life.  We  take  care  of  our  health ; 
we  lay  up  money ; we  make  our  roof  tight,  and  our 
clothing  sufficient;  but  who  provides  wisely  that 
he  shall  not  be  wanting  in  the  best  property  of  all, 
— friends  ? We  know  that  all  our  training  is  to 
fit  us  for  this,  and  we  do  not  take  the  step  towards 
it.  How  long  shall  we  sit  and  wait  for  these  ben- 
efactors ? 

It  makes  no  difference,  in  looking  back  five 
years,  how  you  have  been  dieted  or  dressed  ; 
whether  you  have  been  lodged  on  the  first  floor  or 
the  attic ; whether  you  have  had  gardens  and  baths, 
good  cattle  and  horses,  have  been  carried  in  a neat 
equipage,  or  in  a ridiculous  truck : these  things  are 
forgotten  so  quickly,  and  leave  no  effect.  But  it 
counts  much  whether  we  have  had  good  compan- 
ions in  that  time,  — almost  as  much  as  what  we 
have  been  doing.  And  see  the  overpowering  im- 
portance of  neighborhood  in  all  association.  As 
it  is  marriage,  fit  or  unfit,  that  makes  our  home, 


260 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


so  it  is  who  lives  near  us  of  equal  social  degree,  — 
a few  people  at  convenient  distance,  no  matter  how 
bad  company,  — these,  and  these  only,  shall  be 
your  life’s  companions ; and  all  those  who  are  na- 
tive, congenial,  and  by  many  an  oath  of  the  heart 
sacramented  to  you,  are  gradually  and  totally  lost. 
You  cannot  deal  systematically  with  this  fine  el- 
ement of  society,  and  one  may  take  a good  deal 
of  pains  to  bring  people  together  and  to  organ- 
ize clubs  and  debating  societies,  and  yet  no  result 
come  of  it.  But  it  is  certain  that  there  is  a great 
deal  of  good  in  us  that  does  not  know  itself,  and 
that  a habit  of  union  and  competition  brings  peo- 
ple up  and  keeps  them  up  to  their  highest  point ; 
that  life  would  be  twice  or  ten  times  life  if  spent 
with  wise  and  fruitful  companions.  The  obvious 
inference  is,  a little  useful  deliberation  and  pre- 
concert when  one  goes  to  buy  house  and  land. 

But  we  live  with  people  on  other  platforms ; 
we  live  with  dependents  ; not  only  with  the  young 
whom  we  are  to  teach  all  we  know  and  clothe  with 
the  advantages  we  have  earned,  but  also  with  those 
who  serve  us  directly,  and  for  money.  Yet  the  old 
rules  hold  good.  Let  not  the  tie  be  mercenary, 
though  the  service  is  measured  by  money.  Make 
yourself  necessary  to  somebody.  Do  not  make  life 
hard  to  any.  This  point  is  acquiring  new  impor- 
tance in  American  social  life.  Our  domestic  ser- 


CONSIDERATIONS  BY  THE  WAY.  261 

vice  is  usually  a foolish  fracas  of  unreasonable  de- 
mand on  one  side  and  shirking  on  the  other.  A 
man  of  wit  was  asked,  in  the  train,  what  was  his 
errand  in  the  city  ? He  replied,  “ I have  been  sent 
to  procure  an  angel  to  do  cooking.”  A lady  com- 
plained to  me  that  of  her  two  maidens,  one  was 
absent-minded  and  the  other  was  absent-bodied. 
And  the  evil  increases  from  the  ignorance  and  hos- 
tility of  every  ship-load  of  the  immigrant  population 
swarming  into  houses  and  farms.  Few  people  dis- 
cern that  it  rests  with  the  master  or  the  mistress 
what  service  comes  from  the  man  or  the  maid; 
that  this  identical  hussy  was  a tutelar  spirit  in  one 
house  and  a haridan  in  the  other.  All  sensible 
people  are  selfish,  and  nature  is  tugging  at  every 
contract  to  make  the  terms  of  it  fair.  If  you  are 
proposing  only  your  own,  the  other  party  must  deal 
a little  hardly  by  you.  If  you  deal  generously,  the 
other,  though  selfish  and  unjust,  will  make  an  ex- 
ception in  your  favor,  and  deal  truly  with  you. 
When  I asked  an  iron-master  about  the  slag  and 
cinder  in  railroad  iron,  — “ O,”  he  said,  “ there ’s 
always  good  iron  to  be  had  : if  there ’s  cinder 
in  the  iron  it  is  because  there  was  cinder  in  the 
pay.” 

But  why  multiply  these  topics,  and  their  illus- 
trations, which  are  endless  ? Life  brings  to  each 
his  task,  and  whatever  art  you  select,  algebra, 


262 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


planting,  architecture,  poems,  commerce,  politics,  — 
all  are  attainable,  even  to  the  miraculous  triumphs, 
on  the  same  terms  of  selecting  that  for  which  you 
are  apt ; begin  at  the  beginning,  proceed  in  order, 
step  by  step.  5T  is  as  easy  to  twist  iron  anchors 
and  braid  cannons  as  to  braid  straw ; to  boil  granite 
as  to  boil  water,  if  you  take  all  the  steps  in  order. 
Wherever  there  is  failure,  there  is  some  giddiness, 
some  superstition  about  luck,  some  step  omitted, 
which  Nature  never  pardons.  The  happy  condi- 
tions of  life  may  be  had  on  the  same  terms.  Their 
attraction  for  you  is  the  pledge  that  they  are  within 
your  reach.  Our  prayers  are  prophets.  There 
must  be  fidelity,  and  there  must  be  adherence. 
How  respectable  the  life  that  clings  to  its  objects ! 
Youthful  aspirations  are  fine  things,  your  theories 
and  plans  of  life  are  fair  and  commendable  : — 
but  will  you  stick  ? Not  one,  I fear,  in  that  Com- 
mon full  of  people,  or,  in  a thousand,  but  one : and 
when  you  tax  them  with  treachery,  and  remind 
them  of  their  high  resolutions,  they  have  forgotten 
that  they  made  a vow.  The  individuals  are  fugi- 
tive, and  in  the  act  of  becoming  something  else, 
and  irresponsible.  The  race  is  great,  the  ideal  fair, 
but  the  men  whiffling  and  unsure.  The  hero  is  he 
who  is  immovably  centred.  The  main  difference 
between  people  seems  to  be  that  one  man  can 
come  under  obligations  on  which  you  can  rely,  — is 


CONSIDER  A TIONS  BY  THE  WAY.  268 


obligable ; and  another  is  not.  As  he  has  not  a 
law  within  him,  there ’s  nothing  to  tie  him  to. 

It  is  inevitable  to  name  particulars  of  virtue  and 
of  condition,  and  to  exaggerate  them.  But  all  rests 
at  last  on  that  integrity  which  dwarfs  talent,  and 
can  spare  it.  Sanity  consists  in  not  being  subdued 
by  your  means.  Fancy  prices  are  paid  for  position 
and  for  the  culture  of  talent,  but  to  the  grand 
interests,  superficial  success  is  of  no  account.  The 
man,  — it  is  his  attitude,  — not  feats,  but  forces,  — 
not  on  set  days  and  public  occasions,  but  at  all 
hours,  and  in  repose  alike  as  in  energy,  still  for- 
midable and  not  to  be  disposed  of.  The  populace 
says,  with  Horne  Tooke,  “ If  you  would  be  pow- 
erful, pretend  to  be  powerful.”  I prefer  to  say, 
with  the  old  prophet,  “ Seekest  thou  great  things  ? 
seek  them  not : ” — or,  what  was  said  of  a Spanish 
prince,  “ The  more  you  took  from  him,  the  greater 
he  looked.”  Plus  on  lui  ote , plus  il  est  grand . 

The  secret  of  culture  is  to  learn  that  a few  great 
points  steadily  reappear,  alike  in  the  poverty  of  the 
obscurest  farm  and  in  the  miscellany  of  metropol- 
itan life,  and  that  these  few  are  alone  to  be  re- 
garded ; — the  escape  from  all  false  ties ; courage 
to  be  what  we  are,  and  love  of  what  is  simple 
and  beautiful ; independence  and  cheerful  relation, 
these  are  the  essentials,  — these,  and  the  wish  to 
serve,  to  add  somewhat  to  the  well-being  of  men. 


VIII. 


BEAUTY. 

— * — 

Was  never  form  and  never  face 
So  sweet  to  Seyd  as  only  grace 
Which  did  not  slumber  like  a stone 
But  hovered  gleaming  and  was  gone. 

Beauty  chased  he  everywhere, 

In  flame,  in  storm,  in  clouds  of  air. 

He  smote  the  lake  to  feed  his  eye 

With  the  beryl  beam  of  the  broken  wave* 
He  flung  in  pebbles  well  to  hear 

The  moment’s  music  which  they  gave. 

Oft  pealed  for  him  a lofty  tone 
From  nodding  pole  and  belting  zone. 

He  heard  a voice  none  else  could  hear 
From  centred  and  from  errant  sphere. 

The  quaking  earth  did  quake  in  rhyme, 

Seas  ebbed  and  flowed  in  epic  chime. 

In  dens  of  passion,  and  pits  of  woe, 

He  saw  strong  Eros  struggling  through, 

To  sun  the  dark  and  solve  the  curse, 

And  beam  to  the  bounds  of  the  universe.. 
While  thus  to  love  he  gave  his  days 


266  CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 

In  loyal  worship,  scorning  praise, 

How  spread  their  lures  for  him,  in  vain, 
Thieving  ambition  and  paltering  Gain ! 
He  thought  it  happier  to  be  dead, 

To  die  for  Beauty,  than  live  for  bread» 


BEAUTY. 


The  spiral  tendency  of  vegetation  infects  edu- 
cation also.  Our  books  approach  very  slowly  the 
things  we  most  wish  to  know.  What  a parade  we 
make  of  our  science,  and  how  far  off  and  at  arm’s 
length  it  is  from  its  objects ! Our  botany  is  all 
names,  not  powers:  poets  and  romancers  talk  of 
herbs  of  grace  and  healing,  but  what  does  the  bota- 
nist know  of  the  virtues  of  his  weeds  ? The  geolo- 
gist lays  bare  the  strata  and  can  tell  them  all  on 
his  fingers;  but  does  he  know  what  effect  passes 
into  the  man  who  builds  his  house  in  them  ? what 
effect  on  the  race  that  inhabits  a granite  shelf? 
what  on  the  inhabitants  of  marl  and  of  alluvium  ? 

We  should  go  to  the  ornithologist  with  a new 
feeling  if  he  could  teach  us  what  the  social  birds 
say  when  they  sit  in  the  autumn  council,  talking 
together  in  the  trees.  The  want  of  sympathy  makes 
his  record  a dull  dictionary.  His  result  is  a dead 
bird.  The  bird  is  not  in  its  ounces  and  inches, 
but  in  its  relations  to  Nature ; and  the  skin  or  skel- 
eton you  show  me  is  no  more  a heron,  than  a heap 
of  ashes  or  a bottle  of  gases  into  which  his  body 


268 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


has  been  reduced,  is  Dante  or  Washington.  The 
naturalist  is  led  from  the  road  by  the  whole  dis- 
tance of  his  fancied  advance.  The  boy  had  juster 
views  when  he  gazed  at  the  shells  on  the  beach 
or  the  flowers  in  the  meadow,  unable  to  call  them 
by  their  names,  than  the  man  in  the  pride  of  his 
nomenclature.  Astrology  interested  us,  for  it  tied 
man  to  the  system.  Instead  of  an  isolated  beggar, 
the  farthest  star  felt  him  and  he  felt  the  star. 
However  rash  and  however  falsified  by  pretenders 
and  traders  in  it,  the  hint  was  true  and  divine,  the 
soul’s  avowal  of  its  large  relations,  and  that  cli- 
mate, century,  remote  natures  as  well  as  near,  are 
part  of  its  biography.  Chemistry  takes  to  pieces, 
but  it  does  not  construct.  Alchemy,  which  sought 
to  transmute  one  element  into  another,  to  prolong 
life,  to  arm  with  power,  — that  was  in  the  right 
direction.  All  our  science  lacks  a human  side. 
The  tenant  is  more  than  the  house.  Bugs  and 
stamens  and  spores,  on  which  we  lavish  so  many 
years,  are  not  finalities ; and  man,  when  his  powers 
unfold  in  order,  will  take  Nature  along  with  him, 
and  emit  light  into  all  her  recesses.  The  human 
heart  concerns  us  more  than  the  poring  into  micro- 
scopes, and  is  larger  than  can  be  measured  by  the 
pompous  figures  of  the  astronomer. 

We  are  just  so  frivolous  and  skeptical.  Men 
hold  themselves  cheap  and  vile ; and  yet  a man  is 


BEAUTY. 


269 


a fagot  of  thunderbolts.  All  the  elements  pour 
through  his  system ; he  is  the  flood  of  the  flood 
and  fire  of  the  fire ; he  feels  the  antipodes  and  the 
pole  as  drops  of  his  blood  ; they  are  the  extension 
of  his  personality.  His  duties  are  measured  by  that 
instrument  he  is ; and  a right  and  perfect  man 
would  be  felt  to  the  centre  of  the  Copernican  sys- 
tem. ’T  is  curious  that  we  only  believe  as  deep  as 
we  live.  We  do  not  think  heroes  can  exert  any 
more  awful  power  than  that  surface  - play  which 
amuses  us.  A deep  man  believes  in  miracles, 
waits  for  them,  believes  in  magic,  believes  that 
the  orator  will  decompose  his  adversary ; believes 
that  the  evil  eye  can  wither,  that  the  heart’s  bless- 
ing can  heal ; that  love  can  exalt  talent ; can  over- 
come all  odds.  From  a great  heart  secret  magnet- 
isms flow  incessantly  to  draw  great  events.  But 
we  prize  very  humble  utilities,  a prudent  husband, 
a good  son,  a voter,  a citizen,  and  deprecate  any  ro- 
mance of  character ; and  perhaps  reckon  only  his 
money  value,  his  intellect,  his  affection,  — as  a sort 
of  bill  of  exchange  easily  convertible  into  fine  cham- 
bers, pictures,  music,  and  wine. 

The  motive  of  science  was  the  extension  of  man, 
on  all  sides,  into  Nature,  till  his  hands  should  touch 
the  stars,  his  eyes  see  through  the  earth,  his  ears 
understand  the  language  of  beast  and  bird,  and 
the  sense  of  the  wind ; and,  through  his  sympathy, 


270 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


heaven  and  earth  should  talk  with  him.  But  that 
is  not  our  science.  These  geologies,  chemistries, 
astronomies,  seem  to  make  wise,  but  they  leave  us 
where  they  found  us.  The  invention  is  of  use  to 
the  inventor,  of  questionable  help  to  any  other. 
The  formulas  of  science  are  like  the  papers  in  your 
pocket  - book,  of  no  value  to  any  but  the  owner. 
Science  in  England,  in  America,  is  jealous  of  the- 
ory, hates  the  name  of  love  and  moral  purpose. 
There’s  a revenge  for  this  inhumanity.  What 
manner  of  man  does  science  make?  The  boy  is 
not  attracted.  He  says,  I do  not  wish  to  be  such 
a kind  of  man  as  my  professor  is.  The  collector 
has  dried  all  the  plants  in  his  herbal,  but  he  has 
lost  weight  and  humor.  He  has  got  all  snakes  and 
lizards  in  his  phials,  but  science  has  done  for  him 
also,  and  has  put  the  man  into  a bottle.  Our  re- 
liance on  the  physician  is  a kind  of  despair  of  our- 
selves. The  clergy  have  bronchitis,  which  does  not 
seem  a certificate  of  spiritual  health.  Macready 
thought  it  came  of  the  falsetto  of  their  voicing. 
An  Indian  prince,  Tisso,  one  day  riding  in  the  for- 
est, saw  a herd  of  elk  sporting.  “ See  how  happy,” 
he  said,  “ these  browsing  elks  are ! Why  should 
not  priests,  lodged  and  fed  comfortably  in  the  tem- 
ples, also  amuse  themselves  ? ” Returning  home, 
he  imparted  this  reflection  to  the  king.  The  king, 
on  the  next  day,  conferred  the  sovereignty  on  him, 


BEAUTY. 


271 


saying,  “ Prince,  administer  this  empire  for  seven 
days  ; at  the  termination  of  that  period  I shall  put 
thee  to  death.”  At  the  end  of  the  seventh  day 
the  king  inquired,  u From  what  cause  hast  thou  be- 
come so  emaciated?”  He  answered,  “From  the 
horror  of  death.”  The  monarch  rejoined,  “Live, 
my  child,  and  be  wise.  Thou  hast  ceased  to  take 
recreation,  saying  to  thyself,  In  seven  days  I shall 
be  put  to  death.  These  priests  in  the  temple  inces- 
santly meditate  on  death ; how  can  they  enter  into 
healthful  diversions  ? ” But  the  men  of  science  or 
the  doctors  or  the  clergy  are  not  victims  of  their 
pursuits  more  than  others.  The  miller,  the  lawyer, 
and  the  merchant,  dedicate  themselves  to  their  own 
details,  and  do  not  come  out  men  of  more  force. 
Have  they  divination,  grand  aims,  hospitality  of 
soul,  and  the  equality  to  any  event  which  we  de- 
mand in  man,  or  only  the  reactions  of  the  mill,  of 
the  wares,  of  the  chicane  ? 

No  object  really  interests  us  but  man,  and  in 
man  only  his  superiorities  ; and  though  we  are 
aware  of  a perfect  law  in  Nature,  it  has  fascination 
for  us  only  through  its  relation  to  him,  or  as  it 
is  rooted  in  the  mind.  At  the  birth  of  Winckel- 
mann,  more  than  a hundred  years  ago,  side  by  side 
with  this  arid,  departmental,  post  mortem  science, 
rose  an  enthusiasm  in  the  study  of  Beauty ; and 
perhaps  some  sparks  from  it  may  yet  light  a con- 


272 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


flagration  in  the  other.  Knowledge  of  men,  knowl- 
edge of  manners,  the  power  of  form,  and  our  sensi- 
bility to  personal  influence  never  go  out  of  fashion. 
These  are  facts  of  a science  which  we  study  with- 
out book,  whose  teachers  and  subjects  are  always 
near  us. 

So  inveterate  is  our  habit  of  criticism  that  much 
of  our  knowledge  in  this  direction  belongs  to  the 
chapter  of  pathology.  The  crowd  in  the  street  of- 
tener  furnishes  degradations  than  angels  or  redeem- 
ers, but  they  all  prove  the  transparency.  Every 
spirit  makes  its  house,  and  we  can  give  a shrewd 
guess  from  the  house  to  the  inhabitant.  But  not 
less  does  Nature  furnish  us  with  every  sign  of  grace 
and  goodness.  The  delicious  faces  of  children,  the 
beauty  of  school-girls,  “the  sweet  seriousness  of 
sixteen,”  the  lofty  air  of  well-born,  well-bred  boys, 
the  passionate  histories  in  the  looks  and  manners  of 
youth  and  early  manhood,  and  the  varied  power  in 
all  that  well-known  company  that  escort  us  through 
life,  — we  know  how  these  forms  thrill,  paralyze, 
provoke,  inspire,  and  enlarge  us. 

Beauty  is  the  form  under  which  the  intellect  pre- 
fers to  study  the  world.  All  privilege  is  that  of 
beauty ; for  there  are  many  beauties ; as,  of  gen- 
eral nature,  of  the  human  face  and  form,  of  man- 
ners, of  brain  or  method,  moral  beauty  or  beauty 
of  the  soul. 


BEAUTY . 


273 


The  ancients  believed  that  a genius  or  demon 
took  possession  at  birth  of  each  mortal,  to  guide 
him  ; that  these  genii  were  sometimes  seen  as  a 
flame  of  fire  partly  immersed  in  the  bodies  which 
they  governed ; on  an  evil  man,  resting  on  his  head ; 
in  a good  man,  mixed  with  his  substance.  They 
thought  the  same  genius,  at  the  death  of  its  ward, 
entered  a new-born  child,  and  they  pretended  to 
guess  the  pilot  by  the  sailing  of  the  ship.  We  rec- 
ognize obscurely  the  same  fact,  though  we  give  it 
our  own  names.  We  say  that  every  man  is  en- 
titled to  be  valued  by  his  best  moment.  We  meas- 
ure our  friends  so.  We  know  they  have  intervals 
of  folly,  whereof  we  take  no  heed,  but  wait  the 
reappearings  of  the  genius,  which  are  sure  and 
beautiful.  On  the  other  side,  everybody  knows 
people  who  appear  beridden,  and  who,  with  all 
degrees  of  ability,  never  impress  us  with  the  air 
of  free  agency.  They  know  it  too,  and  peep  with 
their  eyes  to  see  if  you  detect  their  sad  plight.  We 
fancy,  could  we  pronounce  the  solving  word  and 
disenchant  them,  the  cloud  would  roll  up,  the  little 
rider  would  be  discovered  and  unseated,  and  they 
would  regain  their  freedom.  The  remedy  seems 
never  to  be  far  off,  since  the  first  step  into  thought 
lifts  this  mountain  of  necessity.  Thought  is  the 
pent  air -ball  which  can  rive  the  planet,  and  the 
beauty  which  certain  objects  have  for  him  is  the 
is 


VOL.  VI. 


274 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


friendly  fire  which  expands  the  thought  and  ac- 
quaints the  prisoner  that  liberty  and  power  await 
him. 

The  question  of  Beauty  takes  us  out  of  surfaces 
to  thinking  of  the  foundations  of  things.  Goethe 
said,  “ The  beautiful  is  a manifestation  of  secret 
laws  of  Nature  which,  but  for  this  appearance,  had 
been  forever  concealed  from  us.”  And  the  work- 
ing of  this  deep  instinct  makes  all  the  excitement 
— much  of  it  superficial  and  absurd  enough  — 
about  works  of  art,  which  leads  armies  of  vain 
travellers  every  year  to  Italy,  Greece,  and  Egypt. 
Every  man  values  every  acquisition  he  makes  in 
the  science  of  beauty,  above  his  possessions.  The 
most  useful  man  in  the  most  useful  world,  so  long 
as  only  commodity  was  served,  would  remain  un- 
satisfied. But  as  fast  as  he  sees  beauty,  life  ac- 
quires a very  high  value. 

I am  warned  by  the  ill  fate  of  many  philosophers 
not  to  attempt  a definition  of  Beauty.  I will  rather 
enumerate  a few  of  its  qualities.  We  ascribe  beauty 


to  that  which  is  simple ; which  has  no  superfluous 
parts;  which  exactly  answers  its  end;  which  stands 
related  to  all  things ; which  is  the  mean  of  many 
extremes.  It  is  the  most  enduring  quality,  and  the 
most  ascending  quality.  We  say  love  is  blind,  and 
the  figure  of  Cupid  is  drawn  with  a bandage  round 
his  eyes.  Blind : yes,  because  he  does  not  see  what 


BEAUTY. 


275 


he  does  not  like  ; but  the  sharpest-sighted  hunter 
in  the  universe  is  Love,  for  finding  what  he  seeks, 
and  only  that;  and  the  mythologists  tell  us  that 
Vulcan  was  painted  lame  and  Cupid  blind,  to  call 
attention  to  the  fact  that  one  was  all  limbs,  and 
the  other  all  eyes.  In  the  true  mythology  Love 
is  an  immortal  child,  and  Beauty  leads  him  as  a 
guide:  nor  can  we  express  a deeper  sense  than 
when  we  say,  Beauty  is  the  pilot  of  the  young  soul. 

Beyond  their  sensuous  delight,  the  forms  and 
colors  of  Nature  have  a new  charm  for  us  in  our 
perception  that  not  one  ornament  was  added  for 
ornament,  but  each  is  a sign  of  some  better  health 
or  more  excellent  action.  Elegance  of  form  in  bird 
or  beast,  or  in  the  human  figure,  marks  some  ex- 
cellence of  structure : or,  beauty  is  only  an  invita- 
tion from  what  belongs  to  us.  ’T  is  a law  of  bot- 
any that  in  plants  the  same  virtues  follow  the  same 
forms.  It  is  a rule  of  largest  application,  true  in 
a plant,  true  in  a loaf  of  bread,  that  in  the  con- 
struction of  any  fabric  or  organism  any  real  in- 
crease of  fitness  to  its  end  is  an  increase  of  beauty. 

The  lesson  taught  by  the  study  of  Greek  and  of 
Gothic  art,  of  antique  and  of  Pre-Raphaelite  paint- 
ing, was  worth  all  the  research,  — namely,  that  all 
beauty  must  be  organic  ; that  outside  embellish- 
ment is  deformity.  It  is  the  soundness  of  the 
bones  that  ultimates  itself  in  a peach-bloom  com- 


276 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


plexion  ; health  of  constitution  that  makes  the 
sparkle  and  the  power  of  the  eye.  ’Tis  the  adjust- 
ment of  the  size  and  of  the  joining  of  the  sock- 
ets of  the  skeleton  that  gives  grace  of  outline  and 
the  finer  grace  of  movement.  The  cat  and  the 
deer  cannot  move  or  sit  inelegantly.  The  dancing- 
master  can  never  teach  a badly  built  man  to  walk 
well.  The  tint  of  the  flower  proceeds  from  its 
root,  and  the  lustres  of  the  sea-shell  begin  with 
its  existence.  Hence  our  taste  in  building  rejects 
paint,  and  all  shifts,  and  shows  the  original  grain 
of  the  wood:  refuses  pilasters  and  columns  that 
support  nothing,  and  allows  the  real  supporters  of 
the  house  honestly  to  show  themselves.  Every 
necessary  or  organic  action  pleases  the  beholder. 
A man  leading  a horse  to  water,  a farmer  sowing 
seed,  the  labors  of  haymakers  in  the  field,  the  car- 
penter building  a ship,  the  smith  at  his  forge,  or 
whatever  useful  labor,  is  becoming  to  the  wise  eye. 
But  if  it  is  done  to  be  seen,  it  is  mean.  How 
beautiful  are  ships  on  the  sea  ! but  ships  in  the 
theatre,  — or  ships  kept  for  picturesque  effect  on 
Virginia  Water  by  George  IV.,  and  men  hired  to 
stand  in  fitting  costumes  at  a penny  an  hour ! 
What  a difference  in  effect  between  a battalion  of 
troops  marching  to  action,  and  one  of  our  inde- 
pendent companies  on  a holiday  ! In  the  midst  of 
a military  show  and  a festal  procession  gay  with 


BEAUTY. 


277 


banners,  I saw  a boy  seize  an  old  tin  pan  that  lay 
rusting  under  a wall,  and  poising  it  on  the  top  of  a 
stick,  he  set  it  turning  and  made  it  describe  the 
most  elegant  imaginable  curves,  and  drew  away 
attention  from  the  decorated  procession  by  this 
startling  beauty. 

Another  text  from  the  mythologists.  The 
Greeks  fabled  that  Venus  was  born  of  the  foam  of 
the  sea.  Nothing  interests  us  which  is  stark  or 
bounded,  but  only  what  streams  with  life,  what  is 
in  act  or  endeavor  to  reach  somewhat  beyond.  The 
pleasure  a palace  or  a temple  gives  the  eye  is,  that 
an  order  and  method  has  been  communicated  to 
stones,  so  that  they  speak  and  geometrize,  become 
tender  or  sublime  with  expression.  Beauty  is  the 
moment  of  transition,  as  if  the  form  were  just 
ready  to  flow  into  other  forms.  Any  fixedness, 
heaping,  or  concentration  on  one  feature,  — a long 
nose,  a sharp  chin,  a hump-back,  — is  the  reverse 
of  the  flowing,  and  therefore  deformed.  Beautiful 
as  is  the  symmetry  of  any  form,  if  the  form  can 
move  we  seek  a more  excellent  symmetry.  The 
interruption  of  equilibrium  stimulates  the  eye  to 
desire  the  restoration  of  symmetry,  and  to  watch 
the  steps  through  which  it  is  attained.  This  is  the 
charm  of  running  water,  sea-waves,  the  flight  of 
birds  and  the  locomotion  of  animals.  This  is  the 
theory  of  dancing,  to  recover  continually  in  changes 


278 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


the  lost  equilibrium,  not  by  abrupt  and  angular 
but  by  gradual  and  curving  movements.  I have 
been  told  by  persons  of  experience  in  matters  of 
taste  that  the  fashions  follow  a law  of  gradation, 
and  are  never  arbitrary.  The  new  mode  is  always 
only  a step  onward  in  the  same  direction  as  the 
last  mode,  and  a cultivated  eye  is  prepared  for  and 
predicts  the  new  fashion.  This  fact  suggests  the 
reason  of  all  mistakes  and  offence  in  our  own 
modes.  It  is  necessary  in  music,  when  you  strike 
a discord,  to  let  down  the  ear  by  an  intermediate 
note  or  two  to  the  accord  again ; and  many  a good 
experiment,  born  of  good  sense  and  destined  to  sue 
ceed,  fails  only  because  it  is  offensively  sudden.  1 
suppose  the  Parisian  milliner  who  dresses  the  world 
from  her  imperious  boudoir  will  know  how  to  rec- 
oncile the  Bloomer  costume  to  the  eye  of  mankind, 
and  make  it  triumphant  over  Punch  himself,  by 
interposing  the  just  gradations.  I need  not  say 
how  wide  the  same  law  ranges,  and  how  much  it 
can  be  hoped  to  effect.  All  that  is  a little  harshly 
claimed  by  progressive  parties  may  easily  come  to 
be  conceded  without  question,  if  this  rule  be  ob- 
served. Thus  the  circumstances  may  be  easily  im- 
agined in  which  woman  may  speak,  vote,  argue 
causes,  legislate,  and  drive  a coach,  and  all  the  most 
naturally  in  the  world,  if  only  it  come  by  degrees. 
To  this  streaming  or  flowing  belongs  the  beauty  that 


BEAUTY. 


279 


all  circular  movement  has ; as  the  circulation  of 
waters,  the  circulation  of  the  blood,  the  periodical 
motion  of  planets,  the  annual  wave  of  vegetation, 
the  action  and  reaction  of  Nature  ; and  if  we  follow 
it  out,  this  demand  in  our  thought  for  an  ever- 
onward  action  is  the  argument  for  the  immortal- 
ity. 

One  more  text  from  the  mythologists  is  to  the 
same  purpose,  — Beauty  rides,  on  a lion . Beauty 
rests  on  necessities.  The  line  of  beauty  is  the  re- 
sult of  perfect  economy.  The  cell  of  the  bee  is 
built  at  that  angle  which  gives  the  most  strength 
with  the  least  wax ; the  bone  or  the  quill  of  the 
bird  gives  the  most  alar  strength  with  the  least 
weight.  “ It  is  the  purgation  of  superfluities,”  said 
Michael  Angelo.  There  is  not  a particle  to  spare 
in  natural  structures.  There  is  a compelling  rea- 
son in  the  uses  of  the  plant  for  every  novelty  of 
color  or  form  ; and  our  art  saves  material  by  more 
skilful  arrangement,  and  reaches  beauty  by  taking 
every  superfluous  ounce  that  can  be  spared  from  a 
wall,  and  keeping  all  its  strength  in  the  poetry  of 
columns.  In  rhetoric,  this  art  of  omission  is  a 
chief  secret  of  power,  and,  in  general,  it  is  proof 
of  high  culture  to  say  the  greatest  matters  in  the 
simplest  way. 

Veracity  first  of  all,  and  forever.  Rien  de  beau 
que  le  vrai . In  all  design,  art  lies  in  making  your 


280 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


object  prominent,  but  there  is  a prior  art  in  choos- 
ing objects  that  are  prominent.  The  fine  arts  have 
nothing  casual,  but  spring  from  the  instincts  of  the 
nations  that  created  them. 

Beauty  is  the  quality  which  makes  to  endure. 
In  a house  that  I know,  I have  noticed  a block  of 
spermaceti  lying  about  closets  and  mantel-pieces, 
for  twenty  years  together,  simply  because  the  tal- 
low-man  gave  it  the  form  of  a rabbit ; and  I sup- 
pose it  may  continue  to  be  lugged  about  unchanged 
for  a century.  Let  an  artist  scrawl  a few  lines  or 
figures  on  the  back  of  a letter,  and  that  scrap  of 
paper  is  rescued  from  danger,  is  put  in  portfolio, 
is  framed  and  glazed,  and,  in  proportion  to  the 
beauty  of  the  lines  drawn,  will  be  kept  for  centu- 
ries. Burns  writes  a copy  of  verses  and  sends 
them  to  a newspaper,  and  the  human  race  take 
charge  of  them  that  they  shall  not  perish. 

As  the  flute  is  heard  farther  than  the  cart,  see 
how  surely  a beautiful  form  strikes  the  fancy  of 
men,  and  is  copied  and  reproduced  without  end. 
How  many  copies  are  there  of  the  Belvedere 
Apollo,  the  Venus,  the  Psyche,  the  Warwick  Vase, 
the  Parthenon  and  the  Temple  of  Vesta?  These 
are  objects  of  tenderness  to  all.  In  our  cities  an 
ugly  building  is  soon  removed  and  is  never  re- 
peated, but  any  beautiful  building  is  copied  and 
improved  upon,  so  that  all  masons  and  carpenters 


BEAUTY.  281 

work  to  repeat  and  preserve  the  agreeable  forms, 
whilst  the  ugly  ones  die  out. 

The  felicities  of  design  in  art  or  in  works  of 
Nature  are  shadows  or  forerunners  of  that  beauty 
which  reaches  its  perfection  in  the  human  form. 
All  men  are  its  lovers.  Wherever  it  goes  it  cre- 
ates joy  and  hilarity,  and  everything  is  permitted 
to  it.  It  reaches  its  height  in  woman.  “ To  Eve,” 
say  the  Mahometans,  “ God  gave  two  thirds  of  all 
beauty.”  A beautiful  woman  is  a practical  poet, 
taming  her  savage  mate,  planting  tenderness,  hope, 
and  eloquence  in  all  whom  she  approaches.  Some 
favors  of  condition  must  go  with  it,  since  a certain 
serenity  is  essential,  but  we  love  its  reproofs  and 
superiorities.  Nature  wishes  that  woman  should 
attract  man,  yet  she  often  cunningly  moulds  into 
her  face  a little  sarcasm,  which  seems  to  say,  4 Yes, 
I am  willing  to  attract,  but  to  attract  a little  bet- 
ter kind  of  man  than  any  I yet  behold.’  French 
memoires  of  the  sixteenth  century  celebrate  the 
name  of  Pauline  de  Yiguier,  a virtuous  and  accom- 
plished maiden  who  so  fired  the  enthusiasm  of  her 
contemporaries  by  her  enchanting  form,  that  the 
citizens  of  her  native  city  of  Toulouse  obtained  the 
aid  of  the  civil  authorities  to  compel  her  to  appear 
publicly  on  the  balcony  at  least  twice  a week,  and 
as  often  as  she  showed  herself,  the  crowd  was  dan- 
gerous to  life.  Not  less  in  England  in  the  last 


282 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


century  was  the  fame  of  the  Gunnings,  of  whom 
Elizabeth  married  the  Duke  of  Hamilton,  and  Ma- 
ria, the  Earl  of  Coventry.  Walpole  says,  “The 
concourse  was  so  great,  when  the  Duchess  of  Ham- 
ilton was  presented  at  court,  on  Friday,  that  even 
the  noble  crowd  in  the  drawing-room  clambered  on 
chairs  and  tables  to  look  at  her.  There  are  mobs 
at  their  doors  to  see  them  get  into  their  chairs,  and 
people  go  early  to  get  places  at  the  theatres,  when 
it  is  known  they  will  be  there.”  “ Such  crowds,” 
he  adds  elsewhere,  “ flock  to  see  the  Duchess  of 
Hamilton,  that  seven  hundred  people  sat  up  all 
night,  in  and  about  an  inn  in  Yorkshire,  to  see  her 
get  into  her  post-chaise  next  morning.” 

But  why  need  we  console  ourselves  with  the 
fames  of  Helen  of  Argos,  or  Corinna,  or  Pauline  of 
Toulouse,  or  the  Duchess  of  Hamilton?  We  all 
know  this  magic  very  well,  or  can  divine  it.  It 
does  not  hurt  weak  eyes  to  look  into  beautiful  eyes 
never  so  long.  Women  stand  related  to  beautiful 
Nature  around  us,  and  the  enamored  youth  mixes 
their  form  with  moon  and  stars,  with  woods  and 
waters,  and  the  pomp  of  summer.  They  heal  us  of 
awkwardness  by  their  words  and  looks.  We  ob- 
serve their  intellectual  influence  on  the  most  serious 
student.  They  refine  and  clear  his  mind ; teach 
him  to  put  a pleasing  method  into  what  is  dry  and 
difficult.  We  talk  to  them  and  wish  to  be  listened 


BEAUTY. 


283 


to  ; we  fear  to  fatigue  them,  and  acquire  a facility 
of  expression  which  passes  from  conversation  into 
habit  of  style. 

That  Beauty  is  the  normal  state  is  shown  by  the 
perpetual  effort  of  Nature  to  attain  it.  Mirabeau 
had  an  ugly  face  on  a handsome  ground ; and  we 
see  faces  every  day  which  have  a good  type  but 
have  been  marred  in  the  casting ; a proof  that  we 
are  all  entitled  to  beauty,  should  have  been  beau- 
tiful if  our  ancestors  had  kept  the  laws,  — as  every 
lily  and  every  rose  is  well.  But  our  bodies  do  not 
fit  us,  but  caricature  and  satirize  us.  Thus,  short 
legs  which  constrain  us  to  short  mincing  steps  are 
a kind  of  personal  insult  and  contumely  to  the 
owner ; and  long  stilts  again  put  him  at  perpetual 
disadvantage,  and  force  him  to  stoop  to  the  general 
level  of  mankind.  Martial  ridicules  a gentleman 
of  his  day  whose  countenance  resembled  the  face 
of  a swimmer  seen  under  water.  Saadi  describes 
a schoolmaster  “ so  ugly  and  crabbed  that  a sight 
of  him  would  derange  the  ecstasies  of  the  ortho- 
dox.” Faces  are  rarely  true  to  any  ideal  type,  but 
are  a record  in  sculpture  of  a thousand  anecdotes 
of  whim  and  folly.  Portrait-painters  say  that  most 
faces  and  forms  are  irregular  and  un  symmetrical ; 
have  one  eye  blue  and  one  gray ; the  nose  not 
straight,  and  one  shoulder  higher  than  another ; the 
hair  unequally  distributed,  etc.  The  man  is  phys- 


284 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


ically  as  well  as  metaphysically  a thing  of  shreds 
and  patches,  borrowed  unequally  from  good  and 
bad  ancestors,  and  a misfit  from  the  start. 

A beautiful  person  among  the  Greeks  was 
thought  to  betray  by  this  sign  some  secret  favor 
of  the  immortal  gods ; and  we  can  pardon  pride, 
when  a woman  possesses  such  a figure  that  wher- 
ever she  stands  or  moves  or  leaves  a shadow  on 
the  wall,  or  sits  for  a portrait  to  the  artist,  she 
confers  a favor  on  the  world.  And  yet  — it  is 
not  beauty  that  inspires  the  deepest  passion. 
Beauty  without  grace  is  the  hook  without  the  bait. 
Beauty,  without  expression,  tires.  Abbe  Menage 
said  of  the  President  Le  Bailleul  that  “ he  was  fit 
for  nothing  but  to  sit  for  his  portrait.”  A Greek 
epigram  intimates  that  the  force  of  love  is  not 
shown  by  the  courting  of  beauty,  but  when  the 
like  desire  is  inflamed  for  one  who  is  ill-favored. 
And  petulant  old  gentlemen,  who  have  chanced  to 
suffer  some  intolerable  weariness  from  pretty  peo- 
ple, or  who  have  seen  cut  flowers  to  some  profusion, 
or  who  see,  after  a world  of  pains  have  been  suc- 
cessfully taken  for  the  costume,  how  the  least  mis- 
take in  sentiment  takes  all  the  beauty  out  of  your 
clothes,  — affirm  that  the  secret  of  ugliness  con- 
sists not  in  irregularity,  but  in  being  uninterest- 

We  love  any  forms,  however  ugly,  from  which 


BEAUTY . 


285 


great  qualities  shine.  If  command,  eloquence,  art 
or  invention  exist  in  the  most  deformed  person, 
all  the  accidents  that  usually  displease,  please,  and 
raise  esteem  and  wonder  higher.  The  great  orator 
was  an  emaciated,  insignificant  person,  but  he  was 
all  brain.  Cardinal  De  Retz  says  of  De  Bouillon, 
“ With  the  physiognomy  of  an  ox,  he  had  the  per- 
spicacity of  an  eagle.”  It  was  said  of  Hooke,  the 
friend  of  Newton,  “ He  is  the  most,  and  promises 
the  least,  of  any  man  in  England.”  “ Since  I am 
so  ugly,”  said  Du  Guesclin,  “ it  behooves  that  I be 
bold.”  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  the  darling  of  mankind, 
Ben  J onson  tells  us,  “ was  no  pleasant  man  in 
countenance,  his  face  being  spoiled  with  pimples, 
and  of  high  blood,  and  long.”  Those  who  have 
ruled  human  destinies  like  planets  for  thousands 
of  years,  were  not  handsome  men.  If  a man  can 
raise  a small  city  to  be  a great  kingdom,  can  make 
bread  cheap,  can  irrigate  deserts,  can  join  oceans  by 
canals,  can  subdue  steam,  can  organize  victory,  can 
lead  the  opinions  of  mankind,  can  enlarge  knowl- 
edge, — ’t  is  no  matter  whether  his  nose  is  parallel 
to  his  spine,  as  it  ought  to  be,  or  whether  he  has 
a nose  at  all;  whether  his  legs  are  straight,  or 
whether  his  legs  are  amputated  : his  deformities 
will  come  to  be  reckoned  ornamental  and  advan- 
tageous on  the  whole.  This  is  the  triumph  of 
expression,  degrading  beauty,  charming  us  with  a 


286 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


power  so  fine  and  friendly  and  intoxicating  that  it 
makes  admired  persons  insipid,  and  the  thought  of 
passing  our  lives  with  them  insupportable.  There 
are  faces  so  fluid  with  expression,  so  flushed  and 
rippled  by  the  play  of  thought  that  we  can  hardly 
find  what  the  mere  features  really  are.  When  the 
delicious  beauty  of  lineaments  loses  its  power,  it  is 
because  a more  delicious  beauty  has  appeared ; that 
an  interior  and  durable  form  has  been  disclosed. 
Still,  Beauty  rides  on  her  lion,  as  before.  Still,  “ it 
was  for  beauty  that  the  world  was  made.”  The 
lives  of  the  Italian  artists,  who  established  a despot- 
ism of  genius  amidst  the  dukes  and  kings  and  mobs 
of  their  stormy  epoch,  prove  how  loyal  men  in  all 
times  are  to  a finer  brain,  a finer  method  than  their 
own.  If  a man  can  cut  such  a head  on  his  stone 
gate-post  as  shall  draw  and  keep  a crowd  about  it 
all  day,  by  its  beauty,  good  nature,  and  inscrutable 
meaning ; — if  a man  can  build  a plain  cottage 
with  such  symmetry  as  to  make  all  the  fine  pal- 
aces look  cheap  and  vulgar ; can  take  such  advan- 
tages of  Nature  that  all  her  powers  serve  him  ; 
making  use  of  geometry,  instead  of  expense ; tap- 
ping a mountain  for  his  water-jet ; causing  the  sun 
and  moon  to  seem  only  the  decorations  of  his  es- 
tate ; — this  is  still  the  legitimate  dominion  of 
beauty. 

The  radiance  of  the  human  form,  though  some- 


BEAUTY. 


287 


times  astonishing,  is  only  a burst  of  beauty  for  a 
few  years  or  a few  months  at  the  perfection  of 
youth,  and  in  most,  rapidly  declines.  But  we  re- 
main lovers  of  it,  only  transferring  our  interest  to 
interior  excellence.  And  it  is  not  only  admirable 
in  singular  and  salient  talents,  but  also  in  the  world 
of  manners. 

But  the  sovereign  attribute  remains  to  be  noted. 
Things  are  pretty,  graceful,  rich,  elegant,  hand- 
some, but,  until  they  speak  to  the  imagination,  not 
yet  beautiful.  This  is  the  reason  why  beauty  is 
still  escaping  out  of  all  analysis.  It  is  not  yet 
possessed,  it  cannot  be  handled.  Proclus  says,  “ It 
swims  on  the  light  of  forms.”  It  is  properly  not  in 
the  form,  but  in  the  mind.  It  instantly  deserts  pos- 
session, and  flies  to  an  object  in  the  horizon.  If  I 
could  put  my  hand  on  the  North  Star,  would  it  be 
as  beautiful  ? The  sea  is  lovely,  but  when  we  bathe 
in  it  the  beauty  forsakes  all  the  near  water.  For 
the  imagination  and  senses  cannot  be  gratified  at 
the  same  time.  Wordsworth  rightly  speaks  of  “ a 
light  that  never  was  on  sea  or  land,”  meaning  that 
it  was  supplied  by  the  observer ; and  the  W elsh 
bard  warns  his  countrywomen,  that 

— “ Half  of  their  charms  with  Cadwallon  shall  die.” 

The  new  virtue  which  constitutes  a thing  beautiful 
is  a certain  cosmical  quality,  or  a power  to  suggest 


288 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


relation  to  the  whole  world,  and  so  lift  the  object 
out  of  a pitiful  individuality.  Every  natural  fea- 
ture, — sea,  sky,  rainbow,  flowers,  musical  tone  — 
has  in  it  somewhat  which  is  not  private  but  uni- 
versal, speaks  of  that  central  benefit  which  is  the 
soul  of  Nature,  and  thereby  is  beautiful.  And  in 
chosen  men  and  women  I find  somewhat  in  form, 
speech,  and  manners,  which  is  not  of  their  person 
and  family,  but  of  a humane,  catholic,  and  spiritual 
character,  and  we  love  them  as  the  sky.  They 
have  a largeness  of  suggestion,  and  their  face  and 
manners  carry  a certain  grandeur,  like  time  and 
justice. 

The  feat  of  the  imagination  is  in  showing  the 
convertibility  of  every  thing  into  every  other  thing. 
Facts  which  had  never  before  left  their  stark  com- 
mon sense,  suddenly  figure  as  Eleusinian  mysteries. 
My  boots  and  chair  and  candlestick  are  fairies  in 
disguise,  meteors  and  constellations.  All  the  facts 
in  Nature  are  nouns  of  the  intellect,  and  make 
the  grammar  of  the  eternal  language.  Every  word 
has  a double,  treble,  or  centuple  use  and  meaning. 
What ! has  my  stove  and  pepper-pot  a false  bottom  ? 
I cry  you  mercy,  good  shoe-box  ! I did  not  know 
you  were  a jewel-case.  Chaff  and  dust  begin  to 
sparkle,  and  are  clothed  about  with  immortality. 
And  there  is  a joy  in  perceiving  the  representative 
or  symbolic  character  of  a fact,  which  no  bare  fact 


BEAUTY . 


289 


or  event  can  ever  give.  There  are  no  days  in 
life  so  memorable  as  those  which  vibrated  to  some 
stroke  of  the  imagination. 

The  poets  are  quite  right  in  decking  their  mis- 
tresses with  the  spoils  of  the  landscape,  flower- 
gardens,  gems,  rainbows,  flushes  of  morning  and 
stars  of  night,  since  all  beauty  points  at  identity ; 
and  whatsoever  thing  does  not  express  to  me  the 
sea  and  sky,  day  and  night,  is  somewhat  forbidden 
and  wrong.  Into  every  beautiful  object  there  en- 
ters somewhat  immeasurable  and  divine,  and  just 
as  much  into  form  bounded  by  outlines,  like  moun- 
tains on  the  horizon,  as  into  tones  of  music  or 
depths  of  space.  Polarized  light  showed  the  secret 
architecture  of  bodies ; and  when  the  second-sight 
of  the  mind  is  opened,  now  one  color  or  form  or 
gesture  and  now  another  has  a pungency,  as  if  a 
more  interior  ray  had  been  emitted,  disclosing  its 
deep  holdings  in  the  frame  of  things. 

The  laws  of  this  translation  we  do  not  know,  or 
why  one  feature  or  gesture  enchants,  why  one  word 
or  syllable  intoxicates;  but  the  fact  is  familiar  that 
the  fine  touch  of  the  eye,  or  a grace  of  manners,  or 
a phrase  of  poetry,  plants  wings  at  our  shoulders ; 
as  if  the  Divinity,  in  his  approaches,  lifts  away 
mountains  of  obstruction,  and  deigns  to  draw  a 
truer  line,  which  the  mind  knows  and  owns.  This 
is  that  haughty  force  of  beauty,  “ vis  superha 

VOL.  VI.  19 


290 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


formas,”  which  the  poets  praise,  — under  calm 
and  precise  outline  the  immeasurable  and  divine; 
Beauty  hiding  all  wisdom  and  power  in  its  calm 
sky. 

All  high  beauty  has  a moral  element  in  it,  and 
I find  the  antique  sculpture  as  ethical  as  Marcus 
Antoninus ; and  the  beauty  ever  in  proportion  to 
the  depth  of  thought.  Gross  and  obscure  natures, 
however  decorated,  seem  impure  shambles ; but 
character  gives  splendor  to  youth  and  awe  to 
wrinkled  skin  and  gray  hairs.  An  adorer  of  truth 
we  cannot  choose  but  obey,  and  the  woman  who 
has  shared  with  us  the  moral  sentiment,  — her 
locks  must  appear  to  us  sublime.  Thus  there  is  a 
climbing  scale  of  culture,  from  the  first  agreeable 
sensation  which  a sparkling  gem  or  a scarlet  stain 
affords  the  eye,  up  through  fair  outlines  and  details 
of  the  landscape,  features  of  the  human  face  and 
form,  signs  and  tokens  of  thought  and  character  in 
manners,  up  to  the  ineffable  mysteries  of  the  intel- 
lect. Wherever  we  begin,  thither  our  steps  tend : 
an  ascent  from  the  joy  of  a horse  in  his  trappings, 
up  to  the  perception  of  Newton  that  the  globe  on 
which  we  ride  is  only  a larger  apple  falling  from 
a larger  tree  ; up  to  the  perception  of  Plato  that 
globe  and  universe  are  rude  and  early  expressions 
of  an  all-dissolving  Unity,  — the  first  stair  on  the 
scale  to  the  temple  of  the  Mind. 


IX. 


ILLUSIONS. 


Flow,  flow  the  waves  hated? 
Accursed,  adored, 

The  waves  of  mutation : 

No  anchorage  is. 

Sleep  is  not,  death  is  not ; 
Who  seem  to  die  live. 

House  you  were  born  in, 
Friends  of  your  spring-time, 
Old  man  and  young  maid, 
Day’s  toil  and  its  guerdon, 
They  are  all  vanishing, 
Fleeing  to  fables, 

Cannot  be  moored. 

See  the  stars  through  them, 
Through  treacherous  marbles* 
Know,  the  stars  yonder, 

The  stars  everlasting, 

Are  fugitive  also, 

And  emulate,  vaulted, 

The  lambent  heat-lightning, 
And  fire-fly’s  flight. 


292 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


When  thou  dost  return 
On  the  wave’s  circulation, 
Beholding  the  shimmer, 

The  wild  dissipation, 

And,  out  of  endeavor 
To  change  and  to  flow 
The  gas  become  solid, 

And  phantoms  and  nothings 
Return  to  be  things, 

And  endless  imbroglio 
Is  law  and  the  world, — 
Then  first  shalt  thou  know9 
That  in  the  wild  turmoil, 
Horsed  on  the  Proteus, 
Thou  ridest  to  power, 

And  to  endurance. 


ILLUSIONS. 


Some  years  ago,  in  company  with  an  agreeable 
party,  I spent  a long  summer  day  in  exploring 
the  Mammoth  Cave  in  Kentucky.  We  traversed, 
through  spacious  galleries  affording  a solid  ma- 
sonry foundation  for  the  town  and  county  overhead, 
the  six  or  eight  black  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the 
cavern  to  the  innermost  recess  which  tourists  visit, 
— a niche  or  grotto  made  of  one  seamless  stalactite, 
and  called,  I believe,  Serena’s  Bower.  I lost  the 
light  of  one  day.  I saw  high  domes  and  bottom- 
less pits ; heard  the  voice  of  unseen  waterfalls ; 
paddled  three  quarters  of  a mile  in  the  deep  Echo 
River,  whose  waters  are  peopled  with  the  blind 
fish ; crossed  the  streams  “ Lethe  ” and  “ Styx  ; ” 
plied  with  music  and  guns  the  echoes  in  these 
alarming  galleries  ; saw  every  form  of  stalagmite 
and  stalactite  in  the  sculptured  and  fretted  cham- 
bers ; — icicle,  orange-flower,  acanthus,  grapes,  and 
snowball.  We  shot  Bengal  lights  into  the  vaults 
and  groins  of  the  sparry  cathedrals  and  examined 
all  the  masterpieces  which  the  four  combined  en- 
gineers, water,  limestone,  gravitation  and  time 
could  make  in  the  dark. 


294 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


The  mysteries  and  scenery  of  the  cave  had  the 
same  dignity  that  belongs  to  all  natural  objects, 
and  which  shames  the  fine  things  to  which  we  fop- 
pishly compare  them.  I remarked  especially  the 
mimetic  habit  with  which  Nature,  on  new  instru- 
ments, hums  her  old  tunes,  making  night  to  mimic 
day,  and  chemistry  to  ape  vegetation.  But  I then 
took  notice  and  still  chiefly  remember  that  the  best 
thing  which  the  cave  had  to  offer  was  an  illusion. 
On  arriving  at  what  is  called  the  “ Star-Chamber,” 
our  lamps  were  taken  from  us  by  the  guide  and 
extinguished  or  put  aside,  and,  on  looking  upwards, 
I saw  or  seemed  to  see  the  night  heaven  thick 
with  stars  glimmering  more  or  less  brightly  over 
our  heads,  and  even  what  seemed  a comet  flaming 
among  them.  All  the  party  were  touched  with 
astonishment  and  pleasure.  Our  musical  friends 
sung  with  much  feeling  a pretty  song,  “ The  stars 
are  in  the  quiet  sky,”  &c.,  and  I sat  down  on  the 
rocky  floor  to  enjoy  the  serene  picture.  Some  crys- 
tal specks  in  the  black  ceiling  high  overhead,  re- 
flecting the  light  of  a half-liid  lamp,  yielded  this 
magnificent  effect. 

I own  I did  not  like  the  cave  so  well  for  eking 
out  its  sublimities  with  this  theatrical  trick.  But 
I have  had  many  experiences  like  it,  before  and 
since ; and  we  must  be  content  to  be  pleased  with- 
out too  curiously  analyzing  the  occasions.  Our 


ILLUSIONS. 


295 


conversation  with  Nature  is  not  just  what  it  seems. 
The  cloud-rack,  the  sunrise  and  sunset  glories,  rain- 
bows and  Northern  Lights  are  not  quite  so  spheral 
as  our  childhood  thought  them,  and  the  part  our 
organization  plays  in  them  is  too  large.  The  senses 
interfere  everywhere  and  mix  their  own  structure 
with  all  they  report  of.  Once  we  fancied  the  earth 
a plane,  and  stationary.  In  admiring  the  sunset 
we  do  not  yet  deduct  the  rounding,  co-ordinating, 
pictorial  powers  of  the  eye. 

The  same  interference  from  our  organization  cre- 
ates the  most  of  our  pleasure  and  pain.  Our  first 
mistake  is  the  belief  that  the  circumstance  gives  the 
joy  which  we  give  to  the  circumstance.  Life  is  an 
ecstasy.  Life  is  sweet  as  nitrous  oxide  ; and  the 
fisherman  dripping  all  day  over  a cold  pond,  the 
switchman  at  the  railway  intersection,  the  farmer 
in  the  field,  the  negro  in  the  rice-swamp,  the  fop  in 
the  street,  the  hunter  in  the  woods,  the  barrister 
with  the  jury,  the  belle  at  the  ball,  all  ascribe  a 
certain  pleasure  to  their  employment,  which  they 
themselves  give  it.  Health  and  appetite  impart 
the  sweetness  to  sugar,  bread,  and  meat.  We  fancy 
that  our  civilization  has  got  on  far,  but  we  still 
come  back  to  our  primers. 

We  live  by  our  imaginations,  by  our  admirations, 
by  our  sentiments.  The  child  walks  amid  heaps  of 
illusions,  which  he  does  not  like  to  have  disturbed. 


296 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


The  boy,  how  sweet  to  him  is  his  fancy ! how  dear 
the  story  of  barons  and  battles ! What  a hero  he 
is,  whilst  he  feeds  on  his  heroes  ! What  a debt  is 
his  to  imaginative  books ! He  has  no  better  friend 
or  influence  than  Scott,  Shakspeare,  Plutarch,  and 
Homer.  The  man  lives  to  other  objects,  but  who 
dare  affirm  that  they  are  more  real?  Even  the 
prose  of  the  streets  is  full  of  refractions.  In  the 
life  of  the  dreariest  alderman,  fancy  enters  into  all 
details  and  colors  them  with  rosy  hue.  He  imi- 
tates the  air  and  actions  of  people  whom  he  ad- 
mires, and  is  raised  in  his  own  eyes.  He  pays  a 
debt  quicker  to  a rich  man  than  to  a poor  man. 
He  wishes  the  bow  and  compliment  of  some  leader 
in  the  state  or  in  society  ; weighs  what  he  says ; 
perhaps  he  never  comes  nearer  to  him  for  that,  but 
dies  at  last  better  contented  for  this  amusement  of 
his  eyes  and  his  fancy. 

The  world  rolls,  the  din  of  life  is  never  hushed. 
In  London,  in  Paris,  in  Boston,  in  San  Francisco, 
the  carnival,  the  masquerade  is  at  its  height.  No- 
body drops  his  domino.  The  unities,  the  fictions 
of  the  piece  it  would  be  an  impertinence  to  break. 
The  chapter  of  fascinations  is  very  long.  Great  is 
paint  ; nay,  God  is  the  painter ; and  we  rightly 
accuse  the  critic  who  destroys  too  many  illusions. 
Society  does  not  love  its  unmaskers.  It  was  wittily 
if  somewhat  bitterly  said  by  D’Alembert,  “ qyCun 


ILLUSIONS. 


297 


etat  de  vapeur  etait  un  etat  tres  fdcheux , parce- 
quil  nous  fciisait  voir  les  choses  comma  elles  sont .” 

I find  men  victims  of  illusion  in  all  parts  of  life. 
Children,  youths,  adults  and  old  men,  all  are  led 
by  one  bawble  or  another.  Yoganidra,  the  goddess 
of  illusion,  Proteus,  or  Momus,  or  Gylfi’s  Mocking, 
— for  the  Power  has  many  names,  — is  stronger 
than  the  Titans,  stronger  than  Apollo.  Few  have 
overheard  the  gods  or  surprised  their  secret.  Life 
is  a succession  of  lessons  which  must  be  lived  to  be 
understood.  All  is  riddle,  and  the  key  to  a riddle 
is  another  riddle.  There  are  as  many  pillows  of  il- 
lusion as  flakes  in  a snow-storm.  We  wake  from 
one  dream  into  another  dream.  The  toys  to  be 
sure  are  various,  and  are  graduated  in  refinement 
to  the  quality  of  the  dupe.  The  intellectual  man 
requires  a fine  bait;  the  sots  are  easily  amused. 
But  everybody  is  drugged  with  his  own  frenzy,  and 
the  pageant  marches  at  all  hours,  with  music  and 
banner  and  badge. 

Amid  the  joyous  troop  who  give  in  to  the  chari- 
vari, comes  now  and  then  a sad -eyed  boy  whose 
eyes  lack  the  requisite  refractions  to  clothe  the 
show  in  due  glory,  and  who  is  afflicted  with  a ten- 
dency to  trace  home  the  glittering  miscellany  of 
fruits  and  flowers  to  one  root.  Science  is  a search 
after  identity,  and  the  scientific  whim  is  lurking  in 
all  corners.  At  the  State  Fair  a friend  of  mine 


298 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


complained  that  all  the  varieties  of  fancy  pears  in 
our  orchards  seem  to  have  been  selected  by  some- 
body who  had  a whim  for  a particular  kind  of  pear, 
and  only  cultivated  such  as  had  that  perfume ; they 
were  all  alike.  And  I remember  the  quarrel  of  an- 
other youth  with  the  confectioners,  that  when  he 
racked  his  wit  to  choose  the  best  comfits  in  the 
shops,  in  all  the  endless  varieties  of  sweetmeat  he 
could  find  only  three  flavors,  or  two.  What  then  ? 
Pears  and  cakes  are  good  for  something ; and  be- 
cause you  unluckily  have  an  eye  or  nose  too  keen, 
why  need  you  spoil  the  comfort  which  the  rest  of 
us  find  in  them  ? I knew  a humorist  who  in  a 
good  deal  of  rattle  had  a grain  or  two  of  sense. 
He  shocked  the  company  by  maintaining  that  the 
attributes  of  God  were  two, — power  and  risibility, 
and  that  it  was  the  duty  of  every  pious  man  to 
keep  up  the  comedy.  And  I have  known  gentle- 
men of  great  stake  in  the  community,  but  whose 
sympathies  were  cold,  — presidents  of  colleges  and 
governors  and  senators,  — who  held  themselves 
bound  to  sign  every  temperance  pledge,  and  act 
with  Bible  societies  and  missions  and  peace-makers, 
and  cry  Hist-a-boy  ! to  every  good  dog.  We  must 
not  carry  comity  too  far,  but  we  all  have  kind  im- 
pulses in  this  direction.  When  the  boys  come  into 
my  yard  for  leave  to  gather  horse-chestnuts,  I own 
I enter  into  Nature’s  game,  and  affect  to  grant  the 


ILLUSIONS . 


299 


permission  reluctantly,  fearing  that  any  moment 
they  will  find  out  the  imposture  of  that  showy  chaff. 
But  this  tenderness  is  quite  unnecessary ; the  en- 
chantments are  laid  on  very  thick.  Their  young 
life  is  thatched  with  them.  Bare  and  grim  to  tears 
is  the  lot  of  the  children  in  the  hovel  I saw  yester- 
day ; yet  not  the  less  they  hung  it  round  with  frip- 
pery romance,  like  the  children  of  the  happiest  for- 
tune, and  talked  of  “ the  dear  cottage  where  so 
many  joyful  hours  had  flown.”  Well,  this  thatch- 
ing of  hovels  is  the  custom  of  the  country.  W omen, 
more  than  all,  are  the  element  and  kingdom  of 
illusion.  Being  fascinated,  they  fascinate.  They 
see  through  Claude-Lorraines.  And  how  dare  any 
one,  if  he  could,  pluck  away  the  coulisses , stage 
effects  and  ceremonies,  by  which  they  live  ? Too 
pathetic,  too  pitiable,  is  the  region  of  affection,  and 
its  atmosphere  always  liable  to  mirage . 

We  are  not  very  much  to  blame  for  our  bad 
marriages.  We  live  amid  hallucinations;  and  this 
especial  trap  is  laid  to  trip  up  our  feet  with,  and 
all  are  tripped  up  first  or  last.  But  the  mighty 
Mother  who  had  been  so  sly  with  us,  as  if  she  felt 
that  she  owed  us  some  indemnity,  insinuates  into 
the  Pandora-box  of  marriage  some  deep  and  serious 
benefits  and  some  great  joys.  We  find  a delight 
in  the  beauty  and  happiness  of  children  that  makes 
the  heart  too  big  for  the  body.  In  the  worst-as- 


300 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


sorted  connections  there  is  ever  some  mixture  of 
true  marriage.  Teague  and  his  jade  get  some  just 
relations  of  mutual  respect,  kindly  observation,  and 
fostering  of  each  other ; learn  something,  and  would 
carry  themselves  wiselier  if  they  were  now  to  begin. 

5T  is  fine  for  us  to  point  at  one  or  another  fine 
madman,  as  if  there  were  any  exempts.  The  scholar 
in  his  library  is  none.  I,  who  have  all  my  life 
heard  any  number  of  orations  and  debates,  read 
poems  and  miscellaneous  books,  conversed  with 
many  geniuses,  am  still  the  victim  of  any  new 
page ; and  if  Marmaduke,  or  Hugh,  or  Moosehead, 
or  any  other,  invent  a new  style  or  mythology,  I 
fancy  that  the  world  will  be  all  brave  and  right  if 
dressed  in  these  colors,  which  I had  not  thought  of. 
Then  at  once  I will  daub  with  this  new  paint ; but 
it  will  not  stick.  ’T  is  like  the  cement  which  the 
peddler  sells  at  the  door ; he  makes  broken  crock- 
ery hold  with  it,  but  you  can  never  buy  of  him  a 
bit  of  the  cement  which  will  make  it  hold  when  he 
is  gone. 

Men  who  make  themselves  felt  in  the  world  avail 
themselves  of  a certain  fate  in  their  constitution 
which  they  know  how  to  use.  But  they  never 
deeply  interest  us  unless  they  lift  a corner  of  the 
curtain,  or  betray,  never  so  slightly,  their  penetra- 
tion of  what  is  behind  it.  ’T  is  the  charm  of  prac- 
tical men  that  outside  of  their  practicality  are  a 


ILLUSIONS. 


301 


certain  poetry  and  play,  as  if  they  led  the  good 
horse  Power  by  the  bridle,  and  preferred  to  walk, 
though  they  can  ride  so  fiercely.  Bonaparte  is  in- 
tellectual, as  well  as  Caesar  ; and  the  best  soldiers, 
sea-captains  and  railway  men  have  a gentleness 
when  off  duty,  a good-natured  admission  that  there 
are  illusions,  and  who  shall  say  that  he  is  not  their 
sport?  We  stigmatize  the  cast-iron  fellows  who 
cannot  so  detach  themselves,  as  46  dragon-ridden,” 
44  thunder-stricken,”  and  fools  of  fate,  with  what- 
ever powers  endowed. 

Since  our  tuition  is  through  emblems  and  indi- 
rections, it  is  well  to  know  that  there  is  method  in 
it,  a fixed  scale  and  rank  above  rank  in  the  phan- 
tasms. We  begin  low  with  coarse  masks  and  rise 
to  the  most  subtle  and  beautiful.  The  red  men 
told  Columbus  44  they  had  an  herb  which  took  away 
fatigue ; ” but  he  found  the  illusion  of  44  arriving 
from  the  east  at  the  Indies  ” more  composing  to 
his  lofty  spirit  than  any  tobacco.  Is  not  our  faith 
in  the  impenetrability  of  matter  more  sedative  than 
narcotics?  You  play  with  jackstraws,  balls,  bowls, 
horse  and  gun,  estates  and  politics ; but  there  are 
finer  games  before  you.  Is  not  time  a pretty  toy  ? 
Life  will  show  you  masks  that  are  worth  all  your 
carnivals.  Yonder  mountain  must  migrate  into 
your  mind.  The  fine  star-dust  and  nebulous  blur 
in  Orion,  44  the  portentous  year  of  Mizar  and  Al- 


302 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


cor,”  must  come  down  and  be  dealt  with  in  your 
household  thought.  What  if  you  shall  come  to 
discern  that  the  play  and  playground  of  all  this 
pompous  history  are  radiations  from  yourself,  and 
that  the  sun  borrows  his  beams?  What  terrible 
questions  we  are  learning  to  ask ! The  former  men 
believed  in  magic,  by  which  temples,  cities,  and 
men  were  swallowed  up,  and  all  trace  of  them 
gone.  We  are  coming  on  the  secret  of  a magic 
which  sweeps  out  of  men’s  minds  all  vestige  of 
theism  and  beliefs  which  they  and  their  fathers 
held  and  were  framed  upon. 

There  are  deceptions  of  the  senses,  deceptions  of 
the  passions,  and  the  structural,  beneficent  illusions 
of  sentiment  and  of  the  intellect.  There  is  the 
illusion  of  love,  which  attributes  to  the  beloved 
person  all  which  that  person  shares  with  his  or  her 
family,  sex,  age,  or  condition,  nay,  with  the  human 
mind  itself.  ’T  is  these  which  the  lover  loves,  and 
Anna  Matilda  gets  the  credit  of  them.  As  if  one 
shut  up  always  in  a tower,  with  one  window  through 
which  the  face  of  heaven  and  earth  could  be  seen, 
should  fancy  that  all  the  marvels  he  beheld  be- 
longed to  that  window.  There  is  the  illusion  of 
time,  which  is  very  deep ; who  has  disposed  of  it  ? 
— or  come  to  the  conviction  that  what  seems  the 
succession  of  thought  is  only  the  distribution  of 
wholes  into  causal  series  ? The  intellect  sees  that 


ILLUSIONS . 


303 


every  atom  carries  the  whole  of  Nature ; that  the 
mind  opens  to  omnipotence ; that,  in  the  endless 
striving  and  ascents,  the  metamorphosis  is  entire, 
so  that  the  soul  doth  not  know  itself  in  its  own  act 
when  that  act  is  perfected.  There  is  illusion  that 
shall  deceive  even  the  elect.  There  is  illusion  that 
shall  deceive  even  the  performer  of  the  miracle. 
Though  he  make  his  body,  he  denies  that  he  makes 
it.  Though  the  world  exist  from  thought,  thought 
is  daunted  in  presence  of  the  world.  One  after 
the  other  we  accept  the  mental  laws,  still  resisting 
those  which  follow,  which  however  must  be  ac- 
cepted. But  all  our  concessions  only  compel  us  to 
new  profusion.  And  what  avails  it  that  science 
has  come  to  treat  space  and  time  as  simply  forms 
of  thought,  and  the  material  world  as  hypothetical, 
and  withal  our  pretension  of  'property  and  even  of 
self-hood  are  fading  with  the  rest,  if,  at  last,  even 
our  thoughts  are  not  finalities,  but  the  incessant 
flowing  and  ascension  reach  these  also,  and  each 
thought  which  yesterday  was  a finality,  to-day  is 
yielding  to  a larger  generalization  ? 

With  such  volatile  elements  to  work  in,  ’t  is  no 
wonder  if  our  estimates  are  loose  and  floating.  We 
must  work  and  affirm,  but  we  have  no  guess  of  the 
value  of  what  we  say  or  do.  The  cloud  is  now 
as  big  as  your  hand,  and  now  it  covers  a county. 
That  story  of  Thor,  who  was  set  to  drain  the  drink- 


304 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


ing-horn  in  Asgard  and  to  wrestle  with  the  old 
woman  and  to  run  with  the  runner  Lok,  and  pres- 
ently found  that  he  had  been  drinking  up  the  sea, 
and  wrestling  with  Time,  and  racing  with  Thought, 
— describes  us,  who  are  contending,  amid  these 
seeming  trifles,  with  the  supreme  energies  of  Na- 
ture. We  fancy  we  have  fallen  into  bad  company 
and  squalid  condition,  low  debts,  shoe-bills,  broken 
glass  to  pay  for,  pots  to  buy,  butcher’s  meat,  sugar, 
milk,  and  coal.  6 Set  me  some  great  task,  ye  gods ! 
and  I will  show  my  spirit/  4 Not  so,’  says  the 
good  Heaven  ; 4 plod  and  plough,  vamp  your  old 
coats  and  hats,  weave  a shoestring ; great  affairs 
and  the  best  wine  by  and  by.’  Well,  ’t  is  all 
phantasm ; and  if  we  weave  a yard  of  tape  in  all 
humility  and  as  well  as  we  can,  long  hereafter  we 
shall  see  it  was  no  cotton  tape  at  all  but  some 
galaxy  which  we  braided,  and  that  the  threads  were 
Time  and  Nature. 

W e cannot  write  the  order  of  the  variable  winds. 
How  can  we  penetrate  the  law  of  our  shifting 
moods  and  susceptibility?  Yet  they  differ  as  all 
and  nothing.  Instead  of  the  firmament  of  yester- 
day, which  our  eyes  require,  it  is  to-day  an  egg- 
shell which  coops  us  in  ; we  cannot  even  see  what 
or  where  our  stars  of  destiny  are.  From  day  to 
day  the  capital  facts  of  human  life  are  hidden  from 
our  eyes.  Suddenly  the  mist  rolls  up  and  reveals 


ILLUSIONS. 


805 


them,  and  we  think  how  much  good  time  is  gone 
that  might  have  been  saved  had  any  hint  of  these 
things  been  shown.  A sudden  rise  in  the  road 
shows  us  the  system  of  mountains,  and  all  the  sum- 
mits, which  have  been  just  as  near  us  all  the  year, 
but  quite  out  of  mind.  But  these  alternations  are 
not  without  their  order,  and  we  are  parties  to  our 
various  fortune.  If  life  seem  a succession  of 
dreams,  yet  poetic  justice  is  done  in  dreams  also. 
The  visions  of  good  men  are  good ; it  is  the  undis- 
ciplined will  that  is  whipped  with  bad  thoughts  and 
bad  fortunes.  When  we  break  the  laws,  we  lose 
our  hold  on  the  central  reality.  Like  sick  men  in 
hospitals,  we  change  only  from  bed  to  bed,  from 
one  folly  to  another ; and  it  cannot  signify  much 
what  becomes  of  such  castaways,  wailing,  stupid, 
comatose  creatures,  lifted  from  bed  to  bed,  from 
the  nothing  of  life  to  the  nothing  of  death. 

In  this  kingdom  of  illusions  we  grope  eagerly  for 
stays  and  foundations.  There  is  none  but  a strict 
and  faithful  dealing  at  home  and  a severe  barring 
out  of  all  duplicity  or  illusion  there.  Whatever 
games  are  played  with  us,  we  must  play  no  games 
with  ourselves,  but  deal  in  our  privacy  with  the  last 
honesty  and  truth.  I look  upon  the  simple  and 
childish  virtues  of  veracity  and  honesty  as  the  root 
of  all  that  is  sublime  in  character.  Speak  as  you 
think,  be  what  you  are,  pay  your  debts  of  all  kinds. 
20 


VOL.  VI. 


306 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE . 


I prefer  to  be  owned  as  sound  and  solvent,  and  my 
word  as  good  as  my  bond,  and  to  be  what  cannot 
be  skipped,  or  dissipated,  or  undermined,  to  all  the 
eclat  in  the  universe.  This  reality  is  the  founda- 
tion of  friendship,  religion,  poetry,  and  art.  At  the 
top  or  at  the  bottom  of  all  illusions,  I set  the  cheat 
which  still  leads  us  to  work  and  live  for  appear- 
ances ; in  spite  of  our  conviction,  in  all  sane  hours, 
that  it  is  what  we  really  are  that  avails,  with  friends, 
with  strangers,  and  with  fate  or  fortune. 

One  would  think  from  the  talk  of  men  that 
riches  and  poverty  were  a great  matter ; and  our 
civilization  mainly  respects  it.  But  the  Indians  say 
that  they  do  not  think  the  white  man,  with  his  brow 
of  care,  always  toiling,  afraid  of  heat  and  cold,  and 
keeping  within  doors,  has  any  advantage  of  them. 
The  permanent  interest  of  every  man  is  never  to 
be  in  a false  position,  but  to  have  the  weight  of 
Nature  to  back  him  in  all  that  he  does.  Riches 
and  poverty  are  a thick  or  thin  costume ; and  our 
life  — the  life  of  all  of  us  — identical.  For  we 
transcend  the  circumstance  continually  and  taste 
the  real  quality  of  existence  ; as  in  our  employ- 
ments, which  only  differ  in  the  manipulations  but 
express  the  same  laws ; or  in  our  thoughts,  which 
wear  no  silks  and  taste  no  ice-creams.  We  see 
God  face  to  face  every  hour,  and  know  the  savor 
of  Nature. 


ILLUSIONS. 


307 


The  early  Greek  philosophers  Heraclitus  and 
Xenophanes  measured  their  force  on  this  problem 
of  identity.  Diogenes  of  Apollonia  said  that  un- 
less the  atoms  were  made  of  one  stuff,  they  could 
never  blend  and  act  with  one  another.  But  the 
Hindoos,  in  their  sacred  writings,  express  the  live- 
liest feeling,  both  of  the  essential  identity  and  of 
that  illusion  which  they  conceive  variety  to  be. 
“ The  notions,  ‘I  am ,’  and  c This  is  mine which 
influence  mankind,  are  but  delusions  of  the  mother 
of  the  world.  Dispel,  O Lord  of  all  creatures ! the 
conceit  of  knowledge  which  proceeds  from  igno- 
rance.” And  the  beatitude  of  man  they  hold  to  lie 
in  being  freed  from  fascination. 

The  intellect  is  stimulated  by  the  statement  of 
truth  in  a trope,  and  the  will  by  clothing  the  laws 
of  life  in  illusions.  But  the  unities  of  Truth  and  of 
Right  are  not  broken  by  the  disguise.  There  need 
never  be  any  confusion  in  these.  In  a crowded 
life  of  many  parts  and  performers,  on  a stage  of 
nations,  or  in  the  obscurest  hamlet  in  Maine  or 
California,  the  same  elements  offer  the  same  choices 
to  each  new  comer,  and,  according  to  his  election, 
he  fixes  his  fortune  in  absolute  Nature.  It  would 
be  hard  to  put  more  mental  and  moral  philosophy 
than  the  Persians  have  thrown  into  a sentence : — 

“ Fooled  thou  must  be,  though  wisest  of  the  wise  : 

Then  be  the  fool  of  virtue,  not  of  vice.” 


308 


CONDUCT  OF  LIFE. 


There  is  no  chance  and  no  anarchy  in  the  uni- 
verse. All  is  system  and  gradation.  Every  god 
is  there  sitting  in  his  sphere.  The  young  mortal 
enters  the  hall  of  the  firmament ; there  is  he  alone 
with  them  alone,  they  pouring  on  him  benedictions 
and  gifts,  and  beckoning  him  up  to  their  thrones. 
On  the  instant,  and  incessantly,  fall  snow-storms 
of  illusions.  He  fancies  himself  in  a vast  crowd 
wdiich  sways  this  way  and  that  and  whose  move- 
ment and  doings  he  must  obey  : he  fancies  himself 
poor,  orphaned,  insignificant.  The  mad  crowd 
drives  hither  and  thither,  now  furiously  command- 
ing this  thing  to  be  done,  now  that.  What  is  he 
that  he  should  resist  their  will,  and  think  or  act  for 
himself?  Every  moment  new  changes  and  new 
showers  of  deceptions  to  baffle  and  distract  him. 
And  when,  by  and  by,  for  an  instant,  the  air  clears 
and  the  cloud  lifts  a little,  there  are  the  gods  still 
sitting  around  him  on  their  thrones,  — they  alone 
with  him  alone. 


? 


*>.v  v;  r 

"s&ri*'  ,7. 


